


I'm doing everything all wrong

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Banter, Don't @ Me, M/M, Make Outs, Masturbation, fake dating au, horny boys need to chill for a second, kind of, referenced gansey/blue, referenced ronan/gansey, referenced/implied future ronan/gansey/adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: “I was-” Declan begins, then stops to look at Ronan a little more carefully. He points at their hands. “What the fuck is this?” he asks.“Hand holding,” Ronan replies bluntly. Adam rolls his eyes.Declan meets Adam’s eyes, raises his eyebrows, “What the fuck is this?” he repeats, this time to Adam.Adam shrugs. “Hand holding,” he says.“Romantic hand holding,” Ronan clarifies, “romantic and gay hand holding. Hand holding that is both gay and romantic. Gay hands romantically held.”Declan shifts his gaze from Adam back to Ronan, eyebrows somewhere in his hairline, “What the fuck is this?” he asks for the third time.“I’m dating Parrish,” Ronan says clearly, putting the fat very firmly in the fire, “surprise."(This is an AU, but it's still set in magical magic time, it's just that magical magic time does not come into play much or at all. It has no official placing between books, it sits by itself in a separate room pretending that it is bigger.)





	I'm doing everything all wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a 1K thing. I'm sorry? I'm a sucker for fake dating, even when I do it weird like this. 
> 
> And yes. I know I ought to be writing my OTHER on going fics.
> 
> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilearden.tumblr.com

Until about five minutes ago, this Thursday was continuing the (not actually very) long standing tradition of being Adam Parrish’s favourite day of the week. Thursdays meant double homeroom, which meant he got more homework done while at school, which meant he had less to do at home. Thursday’s also meant his day off from Boyd’s, which means that he gets to go home after school, gets to go home and sit down in silence. Thursday is meant to mean that he gets to be -blessedly- alone from the moment he shuts his flat door behind him until the moment he has to get up the next day to go to his early shift at the factory. 

 

Five minutes ago from now, Ronan, for reasons originally unknown, had decided that during Adam’s most fucking sacred alone time was the best time to hammer on his door and demand to be let in. 

 

“Don’t knock the door down!” Adam had greeted him angrily, swinging said door open, and standing firmly in the doorway, blocking any sweeping entrance Ronan might have intended to make. 

 

“I have to knock loudly so you can fucking hear me,” Ronan replied, just as angrily though he had no right to be. “I’m just trying to be considerate of your heari-” 

 

“What do you want?” Adam snapped, planted his feet firmer as Ronan looked to be considering the possibility of pushing his way past. 

 

“I need a favour,” Ronan announced, apparently unaware that possibly one should not prelude this statement with generalised rudeness. 

 

Adam didn’t budge. Didn’t ask about the favour either. 

 

“Parrish,” Ronan said, loud, “let me in. I can’t ask out here.” 

 

“I don’t see why not,” Adam replied, “you’re perfectly happy to make a scene in public usually. I’m not open to visitors right now, Lynch, I’ve got homework.” 

 

“I’m not a visitor,” Ronan snapped back, “I’m a fucking nuisance. Let me in, I know you’ve got shit all homework today.” 

 

“Maybe I want to spend my afternoon relaxing without your dumb ass pissing around?” Adam said, “Make it quick, will you?” He stepped aside, left the door open as he stomped his way back to his small desk to drop himself down onto his stool. 

 

Ronan grinned, followed after him, slamming the door shut behind them before throwing himself at Adam’s mattress. 

 

“That meant don’t get comfortable,” Adam told him, was able to reach across the small space between stool and bed to poke at Ronan’s leg with his foot, “what do you want.” 

 

“Ok well,” Ronan said, “before I tell you, I need you to promise you’ll actually listen without getting all pissy and throwing me out.”

 

“Ok no,” Adam scoffed, “if that’s how it’s going to be, maybe I should just throw you out now.” 

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Ronan said, “do our shared adventures mean nothing to you? Don’t you trust me?” 

 

“God,” Adam groaned, can’t actually bring himself to deny that he did trust Ronan. Can’t bring himself to say it either, it’d just go straight to his head.

 

“Right,” Ronan said, “so it’s like this. I just so happened to be hiding behind a wall my brother was on the other side of-” 

 

“Hang on,” Adam interrupted, “by ‘hiding’ do you mean eavesdropping, and which brother?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan admitted, “definitely eavesdropping, and Declan, of course, why would I eavesdrop on Matthew? I could just check out his instantstory or whatever.” 

 

“Instastory,” Adam replied, dryly, and before he could help himself, “continue.” 

 

“That’s what I said,” Ronan said, continues, “so I wasn’t planning on listening in, not really, he was only with a bunch of his asshole friends from his year - but - he mentioned me, and you know how he is with me. I thought he was probably going to say something really shitty, and lo and behold? He did.” 

 

Adam made a vague grunt noise, hopes it’s enough of a ‘I’m not actually surprised but here’s your shock noise I know you want’ sound.

 

“Yeah, exactly,” Ronan sighed, dramatic. “Ok so listen. He said that he was pretty fucking sure that I was gay, and-” 

 

“Pretty fucking sure being gay isn’t a shitty thing,” Adam pointed out sharply, focused his attention on peeling an old apple sticker of the side of his desk, “so-” 

 

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan scoffed, “and listen. I know it isn’t, because I am. Anyway, he said he was pretty fucking sure that I was gay, and then one of his dumbass friends, think his name is Mitch, said I was probably so deep in the closet because I knew that no one in their right mind would even touch me let alone date me for fear of being snapped or some shit-” 

 

“So Mitch said the shitty thing,” Adam pointed out, and Ronan made a noise of frustration.

 

“Stop fucking interrupting,” he said, “Declan, Declan’s friend, same difference. The point is, is that after some more inane and frankly childish gossip about me, they struck up a bet.” 

 

“I don’t want to hear this,” Adam sighed. 

 

“Mitch bet I’d fake straight until I left Henrietta and Declan bet against him.” 

 

“I still don’t want to hear this,” Adam repeated, “and I also don’t understand why I am hearing this.” 

 

“Why are you such an asshole?” Ronan asked. 

 

“Because you wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t,” Adam retorted, chucked a caustic grin in Ronan’s direction. 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan allowed, “here’s where the favour comes in.” 

 

“I thought the favour was letting you ramble at me?” 

 

“Loser. The favour is; I want Declan to win the bet, and before he starts trying to manipulate me into winning the bet for him.” 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“I’m not just going to let him lose a fucking bet about  _ me _ ,” Ronan scoffed, “Lynches don’t let Lynches lose bets unless they’re betting against each other.” 

 

“Weird fucking family honour code,” Adam mumbled, “what’s this fucking favour then?” 

 

“I want you to pretend to date me,” Ronan said, very bluntly. 

 

This is where the five minutes ended, and Adam decided that his peaceful Thursday was definitely not a peaceful Thursday. 

 

-

 

“Why the fuck,” Adam says, just as bluntly, “can’t you just come out? You don’t need a fucking… date to come out.” 

 

“It wouldn’t be believable,” Ronan replies promptly, as if he’s been thinking about this the entire way over here and already knew what Adam was going to say, “Mitch would think Declan had just persuaded me to fake gay, or come out in exchange for who knows what, and wouldn’t agree that Declan had won. If I just appeared with a boyfriend, on the other hand, it would look much more natural.” 

 

“Natural my ass,” Adam snaps, “you’d still be fake dating.” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, “but Mitch wouldn’t think that.” 

 

“Oh please,” Adam says, “do you seriously think this is a valid idea, or are you just hopped up on family honour?” 

 

“Both,” Ronan says, “think about it, will you?” 

 

“Think about it?” Adam says, “What’s there to think about? On one hand, I could pretend to date you so your brother, who you tend to badmouth very loudly, doesn’t lose a bet, and in doing so, possibly lose all my credibility as a serious and sensible academic because I am dating Ronan ‘school is for losers’ Lynch, or, I could not.” 

 

“I see your dilemma,” Ronan says, “they’re both such strong arguments. Both for, and against. If it helps, I think you should do it.” 

 

“Why haven’t you asked Gansey?” Adam says, “Or have you, and he’s already turned you down?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, “I haven’t asked. I think we’d be too believable, and then Declan would be breathing down our necks about tying the knot and making a nice political alliance of some shit.” 

 

“Don’t be a dumbshit,” Adam snorts, “I’m so very flattered you think we have such little chemistry together. Why would you ask me, then? I think coming out with an almost fiance would be much more effective than with me, who you obviously think won’t make a believable boyfriend.” 

 

“Don’t you be a dumbshit,” Ronan retorts, “you think you’d be a believable boyfriend?” 

 

“Obviously,” Adam says, “doesn’t mean I will, though,” he adds sharply. 

 

“Come on,” Ronan says, as if he thinks just adding a touch of pleading to his voice will tip the (overwhelmingly over balanced) scales in his favour. 

 

“I have rules,” Adam says, surprising himself in his sudden willingness to be a dumbshit, “that you will  _ have _ to obey if you want me to do this.” 

 

“Hit me,” Ronan says cheerfully, “although not really, unless that’s in your rules, which, in that case; kinky-” 

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Adam snorts, kicks him in the leg with his outstretched foot again. “Rule number 1. Gansey and co. have to know it’s fake.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says, shrugs his shoulders. 

 

“Rule number 2.” Adam continues, “No public dramatics or PDA.” 

 

“Not even hand holding?” Ronan asks, “Light kissing? Gentle petting?” 

 

“I allow hand holding,” Adam allows, “nothing more. Rule number 3. You come to all your classes for the entire time we’re fake dating.” 

 

“What the fuck,” Ronan remarks. Adam ignores him. 

 

“Rule number 4. I’m not going to fake date you for longer than a fortnight. So that better be sufficient.” 

 

“Like I want to fake date you for longer than a fortnight,” Ronan scoffs, “it’ll probably be over in like five days or whatever.” 

 

“Rule number 5. You buy me thick shakes whenever I want.” 

 

“God, Parrish,” Ronan says, throws his arm across his face, “you drive such a hard bargain. Are you done?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, unsure if he is indeed done, also unsure about why he’s bothering to make these rules up when he ought to have kicked Ronan out at the five minute mark.

 

“Ok cool,” Ronan says cheerfully, “you’re my fake boyfriend then!” 

 

“Only if you follow all the rules,” Adam reminds him, “you break any of them, and I’ll for real break up with you.” 

 

“Cruel,” Ronan sniffs, “great. I’ll see you tomorrow then, boyfriend.” 

 

“What?” Adam says, a little surprised that he’s leaving so quickly after getting what he wanted, “How am I supposed to act?” 

 

“Like normal,” Ronan suggests, “except don’t freak out when I hold your hand.” 

 

“Whatever,” Adam says, “don’t forget to tell Gansey and Noah. Tell Gansey to tell Blue. We don’t need any weird fucking misunderstandings about this.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan repeats, “I’ll tell them. 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan apparently thinks that part of fake dating means he has the right to pick Adam up for school. He’s parked right beside Adam’s car when Adam makes his way downstairs, and honks to catch his attention, as if he wouldn’t have fucking noticed the BMW blaring his asshole music. 

 

“We have a problem,” Ronan announces when Adam opens the car door to tell him to fuck off. Adam reconsiders telling him to fuck off, and just gets in he car. He supposes it would be useful, after all, to have a few moments to talk about their game plan. 

 

“What’s the problem?” Adam asks, “You realised Declan would realise I would never agree to actually date you, and therefore this plan is a bust?” 

 

“Ouch,” Ronan says with very convincing fake hurt, “no. Ass. The problem is Gansey.” 

 

“If he’s jealous that you asked me, not him, you better have fucking stressed that I told you to ask him.” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, pulls out of his park, “he doesn’t believe me.” 

 

“Doesn’t believe you what?” Adam asks, belatedly remembers to pull his seatbelt on, “That  _ you _ want to help  _ Declan _ ?”

 

“Well, that too a bit,” Ronan admits, “but no,” he says again, “he doesn’t believe it’s fake.” 

 

Adam opens his mouth to request additional explanation, but Ronan gets in with the additional explanation before he can be asked. 

 

“He thinks we’re actually dating,” Ronan says, “for real. He’s very hurt that we’d go about this in such a secretive and backwards way.” 

 

“What the actual fuck?” Adam asks, “What the fuck?” 

 

“I know,” Ronan grits out, “didn’t even bat an eye about me being gay, or at the implication that you’re not straight, just went straight to the dramatics of being lied to.” 

 

“Right,” Adam sighs, “I’m adding this to the, already, long list of why this is a bad idea. I’ll talk to him then.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grunts, “he’ll fucking listen to you.”

 

-

 

Gansey is in the parking lot when they pull up. He’s leaning against his camaro chatting with a bunch of people Adam is pretty sure were in the rowing team with him, but when he catches sight of Adam getting out of the BMW, he pauses, and excuses himself. 

 

“Gansey,” Adam greets him, swinging his backpack from the footwell of the BMW and onto his shoulder, “we should talk.” 

 

“Yes,” Gansey agrees firmly, takes Adam by the elbow before Adam can respond, “we really do.” 

 

“God,” Ronan snorts from the other side of the car, slams his door shut, “you don’t need to be so intense.” 

 

“Privately,” Gansey tells Adam, begins tugging him away from the car. 

 

“Oi,” Ronan calls after them, “what are you-” 

 

“Privately,” Gansey reiterates, a little louder for Ronan’s benefit, “I’ll see you in class, Ronan.” 

 

Ronan yells something else, something crude, behind them, but Gansey ignores this in favour of pulling Adam after him out of the parking lot and round the back of a building. Adam allows this, more bemused than anything. 

 

“What?” Adam asks once Gansey appears to be satisfied with their distance from the parking lot, “Look, I think you have the wrong end of the stick here-” 

 

“I don’t think I do,” Gansey interrupts, looks a little flustered about interrupting, “I’m sorry, Parrish, it’s just -” 

 

“It is fake,” Adam says, interrupting him right back, “I swear. Ronan’s obviously just terrible at explaining himself, but it’s just because of this stupid bet he-” 

 

“No,” Gansey says, “I understand all of that. He explained it several times.” 

 

“So what’s the problem?” Adam asks, a little irritated now, “Ronan’s told you it’s fake, I’ve told you it’s fake.” 

 

“I think Ronan misunderstood what I meant last night,” Gansey tells him, “of course I don’t think you’re lying to me, Adam, and I certainly don’t think Ronan is intending to either.” 

 

Adam stares at him. Gansey is looking ridiculously distraught. 

 

“I’ve been awake all night trying to decide if I should bring this matter to you,” Gansey tells him, “and I think I really should. It doesn’t seem fair if I don’t.” 

 

“What?” Adam demands, twists his arm free from Gansey’s loosened grip on his arm. 

 

“I think,” Gansey says, slow, “that while the general situation will be faked, Ronan’s interactions and displayed emotions will not be.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks again, wishes Gansey would just speak plainly. 

 

“Adam,” Gansey says. He knows Adam knows what he means. Adam knows that Gansey knows he knows. Adam still wants him to say it clearly. He stares at Gansey until Gansey concedes. “I think he likes you,” Gansey tells hims, clear, plain, “romantically. I’m not sure if he realises this, but I think it would be damaging to your friendship and to his emotions for the two of you to engage in this farce. Don’t you think it would be difficult to fake faking affection? I think this has the capacity to hurt Ronan a lot more than he realises, and also, to hurt you.” 

 

“Right,” Adam says. Needs to just take a moment to let all of Gansey’s words sink in. “Right.” 

 

“I tried to tell Ronan this last night,” Gansey continues, “but he misunderstood. Possibly purposefully. I don’t want to see him hurt, Parrish.” 

 

“Well neither do I,” Adam snaps back, didn’t really mean to snap, sighs. “I’ll talk to him,” he says. 

 

Gansey nods, then grimaces. “How do you-” he says, shrugs a little, “this...knowledge of Ronan’s...crush won’t damage your friendship, will it?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be making his voice sound right now, “no. I think I probably knew, already.” 

 

“Oh,” Gansey says, “and you agreed to it anyway?” 

 

“Obviously I wasn’t thinking,” Adam says, “I have class. So do you. I’ll see you later, Gansey.” 

 

-

 

Adam doesn’t have class with either Gansey or Ronan until after lunch, so he has to wait to talk to Ronan. This is good, because it gives him time to think about what he ought to do and say. This is bad, because it doesn’t give him enough time to come to a decision, and bad, because it means he has to track Ronan down as soon as possible during lunch so he can try to talk to him alone. 

 

This is bad, because Ronan finds him first. 

 

This is (extra) bad because Ronan finds him first in a crowded hallway, makes a beeline straight for him, and grabs onto his hand, never mind the fact that Adam’s hand was already busy holding his work book. 

 

“Declan’s right the fuck behind me,” Ronan whispers into Adam’s ear, lips a little too close for comfort, “he’s grumpy about some shit, who cares what, hold my hand properly, will you?” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam begins, but Ronan is already removing the book from Adam’s hand and lacing their fingers together, and pressing himself in steadily against Adam’s side. 

 

“No one else will notice,” Ronan mumbles, as if that’s what he thinks Adam is taking issue with, “look like you like me.” 

 

“I agreed to fake date you,” Adam hisses back, “why the fuck would I care who sees us?” 

 

“Well I thought-” Ronan begins, is cut off by Declan’s arrival. 

 

“Would you please stop fucking running off when I try to talk to you,” Declan thunders, “you’re too old to be acting so childish-” 

 

“You weren’t talking,” Ronan shoots back, grips Adam’s hand a bit tighter, and twists their arms so that their hand holding is displayed in front of their bodies, “you were yelling.” 

 

“I was-” Declan begins, then stops to look at Ronan a little more carefully. He points at their hands. “What the fuck is this?” he asks. 

 

“Hand holding,” Ronan replies bluntly. Adam rolls his eyes. 

 

Declan meets Adam’s eyes, raises his eyebrows, “What the fuck is this?” he repeats, this time to Adam. 

 

Adam shrugs. “Hand holding,” he says. 

 

“Romantic hand holding,” Ronan clarifies, “romantic and gay hand holding. Hand holding that is both gay and romantic. Gay hands romantically held.” 

 

Declan shifts his gaze from Adam back to Ronan, eyebrows somewhere in his hairline, “What the fuck is this?” he asks for the third time. 

 

“I’m dating Parrish,” Ronan says clearly, putting the fat very firmly in the fire, “surprise. If you’re gonna say some homoph-” 

 

“What?” Declan snaps, “I thought you were fucking dating Gansey.” 

 

Adam raises his eyebrows at Ronan, Ronan scoffs, drops his head onto Adam’s shoulder to avert his gaze. 

 

“Well I wasn’t,” Ronan says, “I’m dating Parrish. Problem?” 

 

“No,” Declan says, “I still need to talk to you about what you said to Headmaster Childs last week, though.” 

 

“Can it wait?” Ronan says, wheedling, “I’m supposed to be having a lunch date with my darling boyfriend.” 

 

“I can wait for you to talk to your brother,” Adam says, grins down at Ronan who stares back up at him aghast, “ _ darling _ .” 

 

“You are the worst boyfriend,” Ronan tells him. 

 

“Come on, Ronan,” Declan says, “just talk to me for a few minutes.” 

 

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria,” Adam says simply, detangles himself from Ronan’s grip, takes his book back, and ducks around the brothers to escape. 

 

-

 

Gansey’s sitting with Henry when Adam arrives, grins up at him as Adam drops himself down on the bench beside them. 

 

“I missed my chance,” Adam announces. Henry looks at him in confusion, Gansey looks at him with worry. “He caught me unawares, I dunno how I’m supposed to - to stop this ball rolling now, Gans.” 

 

“I think you need to, anyway!” Gansey tells him, “Adam, I don’t want to tell you how to live you life, but-” 

 

“So don’t, then,” Adam says sharply. 

 

“Parrish!” Someone is yelling from behind them. As they come closer they turn out to be Tad Carruthers, closely followed by a bunch of similarly stupidly named friends. “Is it true you’re dating Lynch?” 

 

Gansey sighs heavily beside him. Henry leans around Gansey to stare at Adam. 

 

“You’re dating Lynch?” Henry asks. 

 

“Mind your own business,” Adam tells Tad, shrugs at Henry. Gansey sighs again, drops his head down onto his journal, splayed open on the table in front of him. 

 

“It’s a simple enough question,” Tad says, “and I’m guessing the answer is yes seeing as you didn’t outright say no? Also, because at least half the school saw you holding his hand and heard Lynch say you were his boyfriend. Well, my next question, which I think we all are asking, is, why?” 

 

“Because,” Adam says, doesn’t turn in his seat to grace Tad with looking at him, “mind your own business.” 

 

“Ah,” Tad says, and then, “oh, Lynch. You’re dating Parrish? How did you hook such a clever fish?” 

 

“Mind your own fucking business,” Ronan grunts, drops himself down heavily next to Adam and leans in against him, “you fucking abandoned me to a lecture there, Parrish you shit head.” 

 

“I was hungry,” Adam says simply, despite the fact that he still hasn’t managed to retrieve his sandwich from his bag to satisfy his hunger, “and you probably deserved the lecture.” 

 

“Fuck off, Carruthers,” Ronan snaps over his shoulders at Tad who is still lurking behind them, turns back to Adam, “why aren’t you eating then?” 

 

“Because,” Adam grits out, finally unzips his bag so he can root around in it to look for his sandwich, “a certain development keeps distracting me.” 

 

“Ronan,” Gansey says, leaning around Adam, “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” 

 

“Gansey boy,” Henry says, “are you jealous that Lynch is dating Parrish and not you, or are you simply practicing your parenting?” 

 

“I’m not jealous,” Gansey says. Ronan scoffs. Adam takes a bite of his sandwich. 

  
  


-

  
  


Seeing as Ronan drove them to school, Adam needs him to drive him to work as well, which provides them with a moment of privacy for Adam to actually attempt to talk this situation out. 

 

“So,” he says, “I talked to Gansey.” 

 

“I know,” Ronan snorts, “I was there when he dragged you off to talk  _ privately _ remember?” 

 

“Right,” Adam says, “he does believe that we’re fake dating.” 

 

“He sure didn’t look like it at lunch,” Ronan says. 

 

“Right,” Adam says again, considers how he’s supposed to phrase this without getting them in a car crash. “It’s just that he thinks maybe, the dating is fake, but the affection isn’t?” 

 

“Are you telling me you have a crush on me, Parrish?” Ronan sneers, doesn’t crash. 

 

“I could be,” Adam says, shrugs, “but I could also be pointing out that you have a crush on me.” 

 

Ronan still doesn’t crash, which Adam appreciates. 

 

“Is this you fake dumping me, then?” Ronan asks, “Because it’s a bit too real for you?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “I knew about the crush before I said yes to your dumbass scheme.” 

 

“So what’s the point in bringing it up, then?” Ronan asks, sounds aggrieved. Squeals his brakes to add to this. 

 

“Dunno,” Adam admits, shrugs, “I just wanted us to be on the same page.” 

 

“And what fucking page is that?” 

 

“The page that says you like me in a romantic and gay way?” Adam suggests, “The page that also implies that maybe I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what I want yet?” 

 

Ronan is silent for a while. Drives into the parking lot of Boyd’s. Turns in his seat to look at Adam. 

 

“So,” he says, “the page is you not having found a page?” 

 

“This is a terrible analogy,” Adam sighs, unbuckles, “look; we’re friends, yeah?” 

 

“When you’re not calling me a dickhead,” Ronan grumbles, folds his arms on top of the steering wheel. 

 

“And we spend a lot of our time together with Gansey,” Adam continues, fiddles with a hangnail on his left hand, “so what I’m saying is that sometimes - sometimes - often - I do feel...something for you. But I don’t know what it is yet. I don’t know. I think that something I feel for you is why I said yes to this dumb plan of yours. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, or make things awkward for Gansey but jumping into a...something real when I don’t know what my  _ something  _ is- I agree with Gansey that it was kind of a bad idea. However-” he says firmly as Ronan looks like he’s about to butt in grumpily, “I still kinda like this bad idea.” 

 

“You’re not making any fucking sense,” Ronan says. 

 

“I think we should keep fake dating,” Adam says, shrugs, “for as long as your plan needs.”

 

“Why?” Ronan asks roughly, “So you can figure out what your  _ something _ is?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says, “I’m sorry. It’s not exactly romantic. And I can’t promise it’ll end up a good experience, but -” 

 

“But you like experimenting,” Ronan sighs, “because you’re a fucking scientist, and what’s the point of having a theory if you don’t test it?” 

 

“I guess,” Adam grumbles. 

 

“I’m not a test subject rat,” Ronan says. 

 

“I know,” Adam says. 

 

“I reserve the right to be fucking pissed and grumpy if this goes badly.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. 

 

“Are you even gay at all?” Ronan asks then, “Or is this an even bigger experiment?” 

 

“I’m bi,” Adam says, “I already know I like guys, Ronan. I already  _ think _ I like you.” 

 

“So comforting,” Ronan sighs. 

 

“Think we should tell Gansey?” 

 

“No,” Ronan scoffs, “Gansey would fucking freak out. Can you imagine?” 

 

“I can.” 

 

-

 

They should probably have discussed this a little more. Actually set out some more ground rules. Actually stopped to think about it for a little while. They hadn’t. Adam had just jumped out of the car to go to work, Ronan had driven off. So now, Adam wasn’t entirely sure where they were. They were fake dating. They were trial dating? They were pretending that they can ‘fake date’ and come to a real decision over emotions without damaging anything. This was almost certainly (about 98.7%) a truly terrible, terrible idea. Adam knows this. Knows this and is still willing to give it a go. Thinks that maybe this is a good sign for it working, because he doesn’t usually like doing things with such high chances of utter and complete failure unless he thinks the payout is worth it. The payout in this case; the chance to be with Ronan, to kiss Ronan, to let the entire fucking school know that Ronan is taken already. He thinks possibly these, entirely accidental thoughts are also a good sign. 

 

He considers changing his ‘no kissing’ rule into a ‘maybe kissing’ rule. Thinks he should probably not get ahead of himself. 

 

-

 

“I actually do have homework tonight,” Adam says loudly when Ronan just lets himself the fuck into his flat. Adam isn’t entirely sure where he got the key, but he has a sneaking suspicion that he actually just dreamed it. “So you’re not allowed to be a nuisance.” 

 

“I brought you a thickshake,” Ronan announces, holds it up in the air before putting it down on the desk by Adam’s hand, “it’s the weekend tomorrow, can’t you do your homework then?” 

 

“No,” Adam says firmly, takes a drink from the shake, “I have work.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, shrugs, “it’s just, y’know, I was thinking…” he trails off as he drops himself heavily down onto Adam’s mattress. 

 

“What were you thinking?” Adam asks dutifully, scribbles in an equation quickly while it’s still in his head, before Ronan can properly distract him. 

 

“We’re experimenting with this, yeah?” Ronan asks, lies back against Adam’s messy blankets, “With us. With the idea of us.” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, manages to get another equation down.

 

“So,” Ronan says, I was thinking.” 

 

“ _ What _ were you thinking?” Adam asks again, a little irritated. He turns half way around in his seat to glare at Ronan, who isn’t even looking at him, is just staring up at Adam’s far too close ceiling. 

 

“I was thinking,” Ronan says, “that maybe kissing would help you make your mind up?” 

 

Adam snorts, turns back to his homework. 

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Ronan tells the ceiling. 

 

“It was one of my rules,” Adam points out, “only hand holding, remember?” 

 

“No,” Ronan points out back, “you said no public dramatics and no PDA. We’re not in public. Unless you’re worried about God watching.” 

 

“Are  _ you _ worried about God watching?” 

 

“Don’t be a dumbshit,” Ronan scoffs, “I made my peace with that a long time ago.” 

 

“With being gay and Catholic?” Adam asks. 

 

“You’re avoiding the subject,” Ronan says, “can we experiment with kissing, or not?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Adam says, presses his pencil too hard in his workbook and tears the thin paper, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan mumbles, he’s still speaking at the ceiling, “ok.” 

 

Adam scribbles a few more equations. Stops when he realises he’s probably going to start getting them wrong if he keeps on going while trying to think about other things. 

 

“It’s not because I don’t  _ want _ to,” he says, breaking the silence that had settled down heavy between them, “it’s because I do want to, but I don’t know if I want more. That’s what this experiment is about, Ronan. What if I fucking kiss you and then after a few more days decide that all the  _ something  _ was was physical. That I just wanted to be kissed. Wouldn’t that be a fuck load worse for you?” 

 

Ronan is no longer staring at the ceiling. He’s rolled onto his side so he can stare more easily at Adam. Adam stares out his small window. He can’t see anything through it, it’s dark outside and the windows only reflect the dim light of his bare bulb. 

 

“Well,” Ronan says, “what if you decide you do want more.” 

 

“It’s a gamble,” Adam says, “with your feelings.” 

 

“This whole thing is a gamble with my feelings,” Ronan snaps, sits up quickly, “what does one gamble more matter?” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says to the dark outside his mirrored windows, “we don’t have to gamble at all. If this is - we can just stop.” 

 

“Sure,” Ronan snaps, “and have my brother think I can’t even keep a boyfriend for a full day? You’re in this for at least five days, maybe a fortnight.” 

 

“It’s not me who minds being in this,” Adam snaps back, “I’m the one with the fucking - if this goes shit wrong it’s you who’s gonna get hurt. I’m giving you a chance to back out, not saying I want to-” 

 

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, “stop trying to pretend you’re going to be so unaffected by any of this. You think I’m the only one who has the capacity to be hurt by any of this? Seriously, Parrish? How dumb are you?” 

 

“Obviously dumb as shit to be doing this,” Adam retorts, angry. 

 

“Obviously,” Ronan agrees, “I’m fucking going then. Do your shitty homework in peace.” 

 

He leaves. He slams the door so hard it shakes the walls of Adam’s flat, judders his wall planner enough that one corner of it falls down. 

 

Adam turns back to his homework. 

 

Wishes he’d just kissed him. 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan is waiting outside the next morning, his BMW idling next to Adam’s car again. 

 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Adam snaps as he yanks the door open, “I thought we were fighting?” 

 

“Well I thought that even if we’re just fake dating we ought to fucking try and make it a good relationship and resolve our dumbass fights,” Ronan says stiffly, stares at the dashboard, doesn’t look at Adam. 

 

Adam hesitates a moment, then drops himself down in the passenger seat. Chucks his work bag down by his feet, and closes the door behind him. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “I’m sorry. I know that if this goes badly I’m gonna be fucking upset too. And so will Gansey. And God knows who else.”

 

Ronan grunts, hits the edge of the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, and stares out his window, “I’m sorry for getting so mad so quickly,” he says, “I acted like a fucking baby.” 

 

“Yeah you did,” Adam says, reaches over and punches Ronan’s shoulder gently. “I - we could kiss now.” 

 

“No we can’t,” Ronan says smoothly, “we’re in public. Sorry, Parrish, I don’t make the rules!” 

 

“Asshole,” Adam snorts, “fine. Are you taking me to work, then?” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says, revs the car, “I’ll pick you up too. Take you on a date?” 

 

“What?” Adam says, snorts again, then sobers a little when he glances over at Ronan’s studiously serious face. “Seriously?” 

 

“Isn’t that what you do when you’re dating?” Ronan says, “Go on dates? Sure, it’ll be a fake date, but.” 

 

“What do you even do on fake dates?” Adam asks, “Fake eat? Fake watch movies?” 

 

“Fake get matching tattoos?” Ronan suggests. 

 

Adam would smack him again, but Ronan’s driving now. 

 

“Fine,” Adam says, “what are we doing on this fake date, then? Don’t say Nino’s.” 

 

“I’m not fucking Richard Campbell Overly Worried Gansey the Third,” Ronan snorts, “nah. We’re going to the icecream parlour by the orchid just out of town. I’m actually good at dating, believe it or not.” 

 

“I didn’t think you had much practice,” Adam says truthfully. 

 

“Well,” Ronan hedges, “I went on ‘mum dates’ a lot.” 

 

“Oh my fucking God,” Adam sniggers, “seriously?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, he’s grinning through the faint blush on his cheeks, “I loved it. We went out and did fun stuff just the two of us, like getting pancakes, or going berry picking. Shit like that. She did it with Dec and Matty too. I think Dec didn’t go on very many though - not really his scene.” 

 

“That’s cute,” Adam says, “really sweet.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says. His grin is fading a little, starts to look a little forced. 

 

“Your mum sounds like a really lovely person,” Adam says carefully, doesn’t want to push any of Ronan’s bruises, but doesn’t want to leave him with his wounds open and untreated either. 

 

“She is,” Ronan says, “she’d like you.” 

 

“Not if she knew I was experimenting with her son,” Adam replies with fake ease. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Ronan agrees, also good at fake ease, “yeah nah.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Work is long, tedious, exhausting, and filled with the constant reminder in his mind that he was probably being a huge asshole, even if Ronan was agreeing to it, even if he  _ wanted _ to be doing it. He was a huge asshole. A huge asshole who hopefully would get to kiss Ronan Lynch, another huge asshole, within the next few days. That was something he knew. He knew he wanted to kiss Ronan. He knew that. He knew he wanted to touch Ronan. He knew that Ronan pissed him off excessively, pushed all his buttons, pulled him right out of his comfort zone. He knew that most of the time he appreciated being treated like a human instead of a study and work machine. He knew that when Ronan prodded him into irritation, it was usually with one of two goals in mind; firstly, to be annoying because this was Ronan trickster fuck Lynch, and secondly, to distract Adam from the constant monotony that was his life. 

 

For a long time he had only been aware of the first reason. Possibly, for a long time, there had only been one reason. 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan honks when he arrives outside Adam’s work, insufferably loud and obnoxious, earning Adam amused and exasperated looks from his coworkers. 

 

“Can’t you just wait patiently like a normal person?” Adam hisses as he climbs grumpily into the passenger seat, “Instead of embarrassing me?” 

 

“I could,” Ronan agrees, “but where’s the fun in that?” 

 

“The fun lies in the me not being pissed off at you afterwards,” Adam tells him, and Ronan waves mention of Adam’s bad mood away with a laugh. 

 

“Should I drop you off home, then? Save the icecream date for another day?” 

 

“No,” Adam grunts, “you’re buying. To make up for being an asshole.” 

 

They both know that this simple statement as is much a gift to Ronan as it is to Adam.

 

-

 

“So,” Ronan says, ominously, as he pulls onto the main road, “Blue talked to me today. She would like me to pass on to you that you’re an idiot.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, “that’s nice of her.” 

 

“I’m also an idiot,” Ronan says, “according to her.” 

 

“Well yes, obviously,” Adam says. 

 

“She gave me this  _ look, _ ” Ronan says with a sigh, “and asked if I was aware that I liked you.” 

 

“Oh?” Adam says, “So everyone knows about your crush, huh?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, “they’re our best fucking friends. What I’m more surprised about is that no one has been holing you up and pointing out that you like me.” 

 

“Well,” Adam says, shrugs, “I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, or my face.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says again, “neither do I.” 

 

“Hm,” Adam says. 

 

“Fuck off.” Ronan says. 

 

“It's not a bad thing,” Adam offers, “except for the being holed up by concerned friends though, I guess. Did Blue say anything else apart from calling us idiots?”

 

“Various things,” Ronan says, “I did tell her that you're well aware of my… crush.” 

 

“Well,” Adam says, “I guess that's why she thinks I'm an idiot then. Hey...” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Were you jealous when I was dating Blue?” 

 

“Please,” Ronan snorts, “anyone could see that that wasn't going to last. I had nothing to be jealous of.” 

 

Adam kind of wants to argue the point, but there really is no point. He and Blue didn't last, and he was on a (fake) date with Ronan now, so, what did it matter. 

 

“Rude,” he says instead, and then, “so you were jealous then?” 

 

“Fuck you, of course I was,” Ronan says, “you know how long I've wanted to hold your hand? And then  _ she  _ gets to within fucking days of meeting you. Stop smirking.”

 

“Sorry,” Adam says, smiling,  _ not  _ smirking, Ronan. “It's just - I just didn't - didn't realise you've liked me so long.” 

 

“Don't sound so smug,” Ronan says, “it's just that there aren't many cute boys in Henrietta. It was you or that dumbass the year above us, and I do prefer smart guys.” 

 

“Those all sound like good reasons to be smug,” Adam says, a little smug. 

 

“Can it,” Ronan says, “we're here. Let's go fucking fake date.” 

  
  


-

  
  


It’s late evening by the time Ronan drives Adam back to St Agnes, and probably a bit later than Adam ought to have stayed out to keep on top of his self imposed study schedule. This doesn’t stop him from saying what he does when Ronan pulls into the park next to Adam’s Hondayota. 

 

“Come up?” 

 

“Why,  _ Parrish _ ,” Ronan drawls, “are you trying to get into my pants?” 

 

“No,” Adam snaps, clears his throat, “no.”

 

“I’ll come up,” Ronan says, unbuckles himself, “you’re not going to be boring and do homework?” 

 

“Not if you give me reason enough not to,” Adam says, knows he’s flirting far too much. Does not give a single fuck in this moment. 

 

“I’ll try and think of some on the way up, then,” Ronan says, grins. 

 

The way up isn’t exactly a very long way up, which doesn’t give Ronan much time to think of some, which is why Adam thinks that Ronan had probably already made up his mind about what he was going to do before he had even gotten out of the car, seeing that as soon as Adam unlocks his door, and closes it again behind the both of them, Ronan presses him up against it and kisses him. 

 

They haven’t even turned the light on. Ronan is kissing him in the dark. Ronan is kissing him without bothering to get into a good position for face aligning, and his hands are pressing awkwardly against Adam’s stomach. Ronan is kissing him in such a way that Adam is about 89.8% sure that Ronan has never kissed anybody before. 

 

Adam breaks the kiss to fumble along the wall for the light switch, flicks the light on as Ronan takes a step back looking more nervous than Adam had seen him for a while. 

 

“Was that all you wanted then?” Ronan asks, “Just the physical side of things?” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says. 

 

“Because if it is, that’s fine,” Ronan says quickly, “tell me now so I can go before I fuck shit up more, or-” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says, “I’m not - that wasn’t - Stop panicking.” 

 

“I’m not panicking,” Ronan snorts, folds his arms, unfolds them, refolds them the other way, “I’m just trying to be practical.” 

 

“Well it’s not practical to expect me to know after just one kiss,” Adam points out, “if it helps, I can definitely tell you that from that I don’t  _ think _ I’m just after the physical. Was that your first kiss?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, stalks across the room to throw himself at Adam’s bed, “you’re such a fucking rude asshole, sometimes.” 

 

“Hey,” Adam says, follows him across the room but kicks his shoes off before he kneels down on the edge of the mattress, “don’t sulk. I didn’t say you were bad at it.” 

 

“Didn’t need to,” Ronan says. 

 

“You could use some practice, maybe,” Adam says, as diplomatically flirty as he’s capable of, “I’m very happy to help with that.” 

 

“Fucker,” Ronan says, rolls over from his stomach onto his side to eye Adam up suspiciously, “don’t touch my dick.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks, vaguely confused by the turn in conversation. 

 

“We can like...make out,” Ronan says stiffly, “but you can’t experiment with what you fucking want by touching my dick.” 

 

“Uh,” Adam says, “ok.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan grunts, “are you going to kiss me, or what?” 

 

“God,” Adam says, “all this romance is quite overpowering, Lynch.” 

 

“I took you out for ice cream,” Ronan points out, “I drove you to work and home and shit. I’m very fucking romantic.” 

 

“Take your shoes off,” Adam tells him, “and stop hogging all the bed.”

 

Ronan complies. Then he lies back down on the bed on his back, looking for all the world like a nervous corpse. 

 

“Ok,” Adam snorts, knees him in the side, “c’mon, sit up.” 

 

“You sit up,” Ronan mumbles, sits up, leans against the wall, “stop fucking looking so piss pleased.” 

 

“I’m not!” Adam protests, “I just - didn’t expect you to be so nervous about this. You kissed me.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “but that was a…a fucking moment of reckless abandon. This has to much of a prelude.” 

 

“Are you seriously psyching yourself up to get dumped?” Adam asks cautious, “Is this why you’re acting like a petrified raccoon?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, reconsiders. It looks painful. “Yes,” he says. 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, “um. Well, look, in that case? Let’s not, yeah?” 

 

“The fuck?” Ronan says, “Why the fuck not?” 

 

“Because I don’t want that kind of fucking pressure on you,” Adam says flatly, “I’m not going to kiss you while you’re sitting there freaking out.” 

 

“I’m sitting here freaking out for everything about this,” Ronan retorts, “the pressure is already on. There’s no point in-” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “no, God. Lynch. Let’s try and not make a shitty situation shittier, ok? Honestly? I don’t think I’m going to kiss you and come to any magical conclusion, but I don’t want to… to have us kissing feel like a gamble.” 

 

“Should of thought of that before you said we could kiss,” Ronan says. 

 

“Yeah I should have.” 

 

“You’re seriously not going to kiss me, then?” Ronan asks. 

 

“I’m seriously not,” Adam says, regrets saying it even before he’s said it. 

 

“Are you kicking me out, then?” Ronan asks. 

 

Adam considers. 

 

“No,” he says, “you can stay, if you like.” 

 

“So I can sleep over, but we can’t kiss?” Ronan says, “Sounds pretty fucking weird.” 

 

“Well you can leave if you want,” Adam says, suddenly very tired. It’s not even late.

 

“I don’t want,” Ronan says, “I want to go to bed right the fuck now.” 

 

“It’s like -” Adam has to pause to check his watch. “Dude,” he says, “it’s like, only just eight.” 

 

“Bedtime,” Ronan says, very serious, “or are you going to do that science assignment?”

 

“Mm,” Adam says. The idea of just… just lying down in bed next to Ronan is very appealing, even though a large part of his brain is suggesting that sharing a bed with Ronan will probably end in pranks involving murder squash and dream whoopee cushions. However. He does have the science assignment to do. He did want to do it tonight. 

 

“Just fucking get up and do it,” Ronan snorts, “fucking nerd. I’m going to steal your lame ass bed and hog the blankets.” 

 

“You should text Gansey,” Adam says as he stands up, “let him know you’re staying here.” 

 

“What,” Ronan says, “so he can freak out at me about how I’m setting myself up for heartbreak? Already know that,  _ thanks _ .” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “so he doesn’t worry about where you are.” 

 

“God,” Ronan says, “you’re just as bad as he is. Whatever. I’ll send him a text.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, sits down at his desk, pulls his assignment out. 

 

-

 

He hadn’t actually been expecting Ronan to go to sleep. Ronan to lie there fake snoring to irritate Adam? Yes. Ronan to lie there in silence for maybe two and a half minutes before getting up to demand attention, or to pace the room, or to go fiddle with the broken sink in Adam’s bathroom? Yes. Ronan to make a few grumbling noises, tug at the blanket, roll over until he was almost part of the wall, and fall asleep within ten minutes? No. 

 

It’s difficult to concentrate on finishing his assignment when Ronan is behind him, breathing deeply and, as far as Adam can tell, dreaming peacefully. However, Adam has had much harder circumstances in which he had to concentrate on his homework, so this is not going to be the situation which foils him. He finishes his assignment. He makes sure he’s up to date with his Latin homework. He tidies his desk away. He brushes his teeth. He changes from his jeans and t-shirt into his sleep shorts in his small bathroom. He stands awkwardly beside his mattress, stares at Ronan. 

 

He had not anticipated how difficult it was going to be to get into the bed with Ronan. 

He had also not been anticipating Ronan opening his eyes, turning his head to look at Adam blearily over his shoulder. 

 

“Get the fuck in,” Ronan says, voice a rough whisper. Adam can’t tell if he’s asleep still or not. “You’re making my dreams anxious.” 

 

“Sorry,” Adam says, before he can think about whether or not he could indeed be making Ronan’s dreams anxious. He drops down onto the mattress, tugs the blanket’s edge out from under Ronan’s hip, and climbs in next to him. 

 

Ronan is definitely still asleep. He makes a small huffing noise, turns his face back to the wall, resumes his heavy breathing. That’s better than snoring, though. 

  
  


-

  
  


Sunday is his only day off, and it’s still not really a day off, because he usually has homework, and he has a factory shift in the evening too, but it means he gets to sleep in. This morning it means that instead of waking up briefly with the church bells chiming for the first time half an hour before service starts, he wakes up abruptly with the first bells. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan bites out, sits straight up on the mattress, the movement pulling all the blankets with him, dropping a heavy layer of cold air down on Adam’s arms, “fuck, church.” 

 

“Blanket,” Adam grumbles, keeps his eyes shut as he tugs at the blanket, yanks it back over his shoulders 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says again, “fuck it’s so cold in here, Parrish, what the fuck? How the fuck do you get out of bed?” 

 

“Quickly,” Adam says, “get the fuck up and go to church so I can go back to sleep.” 

 

“There’s no way I’m getting up out of this bed while it’s this cold,” Ronan says, shuffling back down under the blankets and pressing his shoulders against Adam’s side. They’re already cold from just the short exposure to the air.

 

“So don’t go to church,” Adam sighs, “but go the fuck back to sleep.” 

 

“I have to go to church,” Ronan says, it sounds like he’s just complaining for the sake of complaining now. He presses his cold face against the back of Adam’s neck, “but I don’t have my church clothes with me.” 

 

“Boo hoo,” Adam says flatly, “this’ll help persuade Declan that you’re fake dating me.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, “true. Sleeping over, turning up to church in very obviously yesterday’s clothing.” 

 

“Scandal,” Adam mumbles, “I’m going back to sleep.” 

 

-

 

He must have gone back to sleep, because the next time he opens his eyes, Ronan is no longer next to him complaining. This is only a mildly good thing.  The bad thing about this is that when Ronan isn’t here, Adam can think very clearly about how dumb he’s being by continuing with this...experiment. Maybe it’s a good thing that he can think clearly about it, but it feels like a bad thing. A guilty thing. He gets out of bed. He has a lukewarm shower. He gets dressed. He sits at his shoddy desk and does some homework. There’s a knock on his door a few minutes after he hears the church congregation spill out, and he assumes it’s Ronan, so he finishes the sentence he’s writing and then gets up to answer it. 

 

“Oh,” Adam says as he opens the door. 

 

“Parrish,” Declan Lynch says firmly, “we need to talk.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam says again, considers blocking the way into his flat, but then pulls his door open further and lets Declan in, “about?” 

 

“You’re dating my brother,” Declan says stiffly, “I would think why I’m here would be obvious.” 

 

“Um,” Adam says, shuts the door behind Declan. Declan stalks into the room, stands by Adam’s desk. “Is this the ‘you hurt my brother and I’ll break your legs’ speech?” 

 

“Yes,” Declan says, very emphatic, “and I truly mean it. You cause him any more pain and I will make your life miserable.” 

 

Adam shrugs, “Ok,” he says, “sounds fair.” 

 

Declan glares. “Ronan is an asshole,” he says, “but he’s my brother, and as his older brother, I know he makes stupid decisions. If you’re one of his stupid decisions, whatever, I expect that, but if you’re one of his stupidly self destructive decisions, I am telling you now to watch it.” 

 

“Right,” Adam says, leans against the lintel of his door frame, “would you like to explain that to Ronan, as well?” 

 

“No,” Declan says, “I’ll leave that up to you.” 

 

“Gee,” Adam snorts, “thanks.” 

 

“Also,” Declan says, crossing back across the room to the door, “I suppose - good luck. Or; congratulations? You’ve landed a Lynch. Maybe.” 

 

“Cheers,” Adam says, sarcastic, “are you off now?” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Declan says, opens the door for himself, “I’ll see you around, Parrish.” 

 

Declan closes the door. Adam stands in the silence of his own flat, listens to the sudden ruckus in his stairwell. Opens the door to Ronan. 

 

“What the fuck,” Ronan spits, “was that?” 

 

“Your brother,” Adam says dryly, turns around and returns to his desk 

 

“What did he want?” Ronan demands slams the door behind himself and follows Adam to the desk, leaning heavily on Adam’s shoulders once Adam sits down. “Did he threaten you or some shit?” 

 

“He pointed out,” Adam says, swallows heavily, “that he’d be pissed off if I hurt you. And honestly? He’s not wrong to be worried about me hurting you.” 

 

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan snaps, “this is a calculated risk on both sides, don’t fucking let Declan of all people swing your moral compass into coward territory.” 

 

“Don’t be a shit hole,” Adam says, “I’m just saying, he’s right,” 

 

“And I’m just saying that we’ve had this fucking conversation before, without Declan,” Ronan says, “so let’s just keep it that way.” 

 

“How was church?” Adam asks. 

 

Ronan shrugs. 

  
  


-

  
  


His shift at the factory is almost over by the time the guy across the room who has been shooting glances at him all evening finally says something. 

 

“Parrish, yeah?” he says. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Adam says, non-committal, keeps his eyes fixed on the form he’s filling out. 

 

“You go to Aglionby, yeah?” he says. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, flips to the next page. 

 

“I’ve a mate who works there,” he says, “says you caused a bit of a sensation at the school the other day.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam says. 

 

“Yeah,” the guy says, Adam thinks his name his Rolf. Ralph? “You’re gay, then?” 

 

“God,” Adam groans, finishes with his form and puts it aside, “no,” he says, “not that it’s any of your business.” 

 

“Right,” possibly Ralph says, “but you’re dating the middle Lynch? That’s what everyone’s saying.” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says. 

 

“Ok,” the guy says, is not at all put off by Adam’s chilly demeanor, “I didn’t think that kind of thing was even allowed there-” 

 

“What?” Adam snaps, finally looks up, “Gay people?” 

 

“Uh-” 

 

“Or just gay relationships?” 

 

“I dunno,” maybe Rolf shrugs, “it just seems a pretty uptight place, man, you don’t need to bite my head off, I’m not judging. Just curious.” 

 

“Right,” Adam grumbles, “there isn’t any rules about it.” 

 

“Not something you’d expect from a bunch of old white farts,” the, not actually an asshole apparently, guy says with a chuckle, “good on you.” 

 

“Mm,” Adam says. 

 

-

 

Ronan is sitting on his doorstep when he gets back home. Adam steps over his legs to get to the door, pulls his keys from his back pocket. Wonders why Ronan didn’t just let himself in. 

 

“You know,” he says, “we’re not actually dating, so I don’t know what your excuse for coming over so late is.” 

 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ronan says. 

 

“Never a good thing,” Adam replies, yawns, walks into his flat leaving Ronan to close it behind him. 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, shuts the door and follows Adam further into the room. “I’ve been thinking, we might be faking fake dating for Gansey and Blue and whatever, but we don’t need to fake date with ourselves.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks, screws his eyes shut as he yawns again. 

 

“If we’re actually trying this out,” Ronan continues, “that’s actual dating, isn’t it? There’s no point in calling it fake dating if we’re doing everything we would do if we were really dating.” 

 

“I thought we were calling it fake dating to pretend we had some control over the situation,” Adam says, tugs his work shirt off over his head and throws it at his clothes box, “if we stop fake dating and start real dating doesn’t that shift it from being a fun experiment to something with a lot more opportunity to fuck all shit up?” 

 

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Ronan says, “I kind of want to fuck all shit up.” 

 

“What?” Adam snaps, “The hell are you talking about?” 

 

“I want to date you,” Ronan snaps back, “I want it to hurt properly if it’s going to fucking hurt. Declan’s out here threatening you over my honour or some shit, and you already  _ know _ that I like you, so I want it to be real. I don’t want my fucking heart to be broken in some fake scenario. I want to be allowed to be really upset about it.” 

 

“Lynch…” Adam says after a few moments. 

 

“No,” Ronan says, “no, don’t - don’t try and sensible your way out of this. You can say no. Just - this makes more sense. For us to actually date.” 

 

“Gansey’s going to murder us both,” Adam says seriously, “and your brother is going to murder me.” 

 

“Only if you break my heart,” Ronan replies. 

 

“I might,” Adam says, “I’m not - I might, Ronan.” 

 

“So fucking break it,” Ronan bites out, “but at least break it in a non fake way.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam sighs, “ok, fine. Whatever.” 

 

“We can still tell the gang that it’s fake,” Ronan says. He had been chewing furiously on his leather bracelets this entire time, speaking around them, but now he drops his arms as if all his nervous energy is spent, and steps forward to drop himself onto Adam’s mattress, “it can still be a - a secret. But real.” 

 

“What’s the point in that?” Adam asks, drops down onto his knees next to Ronan, “we might as well tell them that we’re stopped pretending to them and ourselves that this isn’t happening.” 

 

“Plausible deniability?” Ronan suggests, then, “If we’re actually dating, can we kiss?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says. Wishes Ronan hadn’t asked that, because, he really, really fucking wants to kiss him. 

 

“Can I stay tonight?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Why?” Adam asks back, “So you can try and convince me to kiss you?” 

 

“Maybe,” Ronan shrugs, “but mostly because I’m here and I want to.” 

 

Adam sighs. Really, really fucking wants to kiss Ronan. “Fine,” he says, swallows, “don’t try anything.” 

 

“Like what?” Ronan snorts, “I’m an asshole, Parrish, but not that much of an asshole.” 

 

“Just,” Adam begins, shrugs, “whatever,” he says, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” 

  
  


-

  
  


The fact that they turn up to school together the next morning is something that usually wouldn’t be a cause for gossip, but Adam can feel eyes on him as soon as he steps out of Ronan’s BMW on Monday morning. Someone, stupidly, wolf whistles, and he listens as Ronan’s snaps something brutal and 98% cuss at them.

 

Gansey is Not Pleased. 

 

They have Latin first thing, and he leans in over Adam’s desk to convey his displeasure. Adam thinks that maybe part of this displeasure is also due to the fact that Ronan, who usually sits next to Gansey in this class, has opted to sit next to Adam, and is currently glaring at Adam’s usual seatmate who has just arrived in the classroom. 

 

“Adam,” he whispers, maybe hisses, “do you realise that yours and Ronan’s  _ fake  _ relationship is currently the number one topic of conversation at Aglionby?” 

 

“People really have nothing else to talk about?” Adam asks mildly, tugs his books out of his bag. 

 

Ronan turns away from Jones, who is grumpily finding another seat, and leans over onto Adam’s desk as well. 

 

“Is there a point to stating the obvious here?” Ronan asks Gansey. 

 

Gansey glowers a little. “Yes,” he says firmly, “Ronan. It’s just that - when you inevitably pull your ‘fake break up’ stunt, it’s going to be the topic of even more gossip. I don’t think that’s going to be healthy for you. For either of you,” he adds, looking hard at Adam. 

 

Adam looks at Ronan, hopes he is properly conveying through his expression what he wants to be saying. Ronan rolls his eyes back at him, groans, drops his head to the desk. 

 

“Fine,” he grunts, “fucking tell him.” 

 

“We actually are dating,” Adam says, quietly so as not to help fuel the gossip, “we agreed properly last night. This is real. So, I guess, there might still be a break up or whatever, but that would be real too.” 

 

“Geez, Parrish,” Ronan groans from the desk, “way to sound optimistic about it.” 

 

Gansey stares at him. 

 

“I’m just saying,” Adam sighs, “that this isn’t a stunt. That we know that this could end...badly, but that’s what fucking life is. Sometimes you try something and it blows up in your face and people talk about you and laugh behind their hands for a few weeks, and then someone else tries something and it blows up in their face, and people talk about them etc, etc.” 

 

“Is this actually happening?” Gansey asks. 

 

“God,” Ronan scoffs, “need hearing aids, Dicky? Parrish just fucking  _ said-”  _

 

“I heard just fine,” Gansey interrupts, “I’m just - just the other day both of you were adamant that everything was fake and casual and funny or whatever-” 

 

“The other day,” Adam says, “we were still being dumbasses. I mean. We probably still are, we just hadn’t acknowledged our dumbassery the other day.” 

 

“I’m so proud,” Ronan mumbles, pillows his head on his arms, “that I’m dating this boy, what a way with words he has.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says. 

 

The teacher arrives. 

 

“We’re talking about this more later,” Gansey promises, turns around to face the front of the classroom. 

 

-

 

Later doesn’t happen until after school because Gansey gets caught up with his various busyness at lunch time, and they’re doing actual work in their shared classes. There’s not really a huge amount of time after school either, seeing as Adam has to get to his job, but Ronan’s gonna drive him there, so he has a little more time to kill. They sit in the semi privacy of Ronan’s BMW, all of them squished into the backseat for unknown reasons, Adam in the middle. 

 

“You guys are dating,” Gansey says. 

 

Ronan groans. 

 

“Yes,” Adam replies. 

 

“You like Ronan, romantically?” Gansey asks. 

 

Ronan groans louder. 

 

Adam swallows. “Yes.” he says. 

 

“You’re gay?” Gansey asks, “Was the thing with Blue a… phase, or?” 

 

Ronan groans loudly enough that it sounds like the beginning strains of  _ Murder Squash _ . 

 

“No,” Adam snorts, “I’m bi.” 

 

“Oh,” Gansey says, “right. That’s allowed?” 

 

“Excuse me?” Ronan scoffs. 

 

“Uh,” Adam says. 

 

“I mean,” Gansey fumbles, he’s going a little pink, “everyone always says it’s… greedy, or, like, you can’t make up your mind - I thought you had to decide if you wanted to be… straight or gay or-” 

 

“God,” Ronan says, “dude. Your research smarts have failed you. You’re missing out on a whole realm of sexualities. You could’ve just fucking asked me.” 

 

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about… sexuality,” Gansey mumbles, “you’ve never brought it up. I thought - I don’t know.” 

 

Ronan scoffs a little more. 

 

“Well,” Adam says, “you can be bi. Or like, pansexual. Google it. There isn’t a binary here, Gans.” 

 

“Right,” Gansey mumbles, still a bit pink, clears his throat, “so you like both. That’s cool. And right now you like Ronan. That’s cool.” 

 

“He’s still bi even if he’s dating me,” Ronan chips in here, “just in case you needed clarification, Mr Richard Republican ‘My friend is a gay’ Gansey the Third.” 

 

“Don’t be mean,” Adam snorts. 

 

“I know,” Gansey says earnestly, clears his throat again, “and I’m not - God, Lynch, I’m not my parents-” 

 

“I know,” Ronan says, drops his scoffs and sarcasm, reaches around Adam to squeeze Gansey’s knee, “fuck off, Gans, I know.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey says, “I’ve lost my train of thought.” 

 

“Ronan and I are dating,” Adam says, “we both...romantically like each other, we think. We’re trying this out. Maybe we’ll be boyfriends. Ronan’s kind of already shot the gun on that by calling me his boyfriend in public, but we’re not yet, just so you know. We’re still just dating. I’m sorry if this is awkward for you, hopefully we won’t make it more awkward by having to do friend custody if this goes shitty.” 

 

“Right,” Gansey says, “thank you.” He leans forward in his seat so he can look at Ronan. “Did Declan win his bet, then?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ronan scoffs, “he ought to have. I’m not about to go up and ask.” 

 

“I kinda wanna know, too,” Adam admits, “see how much he made out of this.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan is, again, waiting on his doorstep when he gets home from work a little before six. 

 

“You have a key,” Adam points out as he unlocks his door while Ronan climbs to his feet, “just let yourself in.” 

 

“I like waiting for you,” Ronan says, “I like you letting me in.” 

 

Adam pauses in shrugging off his jacket, looks carefully at Ronan. 

 

“That was… romantic?” 

 

“Fuck yeah it was romantic,” Ronan retorts, peels his own jacket off and drops it in a puddle at his feet, “I want to order pizza in.” 

 

“Uh,” Adam says, “that was less romantic. This is my house, Ronan, you can’t just walk in and make decisions.” 

 

“I didn’t just walk in,” Ronan says, “I followed you in. Come on, what was your dinner going to be?” 

 

Adam shrugs, “I have some pasta I was gonna mix with some tinned tuna,” he says, “want some?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, very emphatic, “I wanna order pizza in.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says. 

 

“Like,” Ronan says, “for a date. I wanna order pizza in and… God, look, I brought my homework with me. I thought we could eat pizza and...do our homework and shit. Figured that’d be your kind of date.” 

 

“What the fuck,” Adam says, finally finishes taking his jacket off, “you made it back to romantic. You actually brought your homework with you?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan grunts. 

 

“And you’re actually going to do it?” 

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Ronan grunts. 

 

“We’re splitting the pizza cost,” Adam says, “but you can pay for delivery and thickshakes.” 

 

“Fuck yes,” Ronan says. 

 

-

 

They get one large pizza. They do their homework. They eat their pizza. Ronan helps out with Adam’s latin homework. Adam helps Ronan out with his science homework. They drink their thickshakes. They read the English reading aloud. Ronan quizzes Adam on math formulas. Adam fridges the leftover pizza, chucks out the greasy napkins, and rinses the thickshake cups. When he turns around, Ronan is watching him with an odd expression on his face. 

 

“What?” Adam asks. 

 

“That was… fun,” Ronan says. 

 

“C’mon, Lynch,” Adam snorts, “lying isn’t romantic.” 

 

“I’m not kidding,” Ronan says sharply, “I’m not saying I liked doing the homework. I just liked doing it with you. Also the pizza.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, allows his stomach to flip flop just a bit. “I had fun too. You’re an ok study partner.” 

 

“Um,” Ronan says, a little uncharacteristically, “do you wanna… would you tutor me-?” 

 

“What,” Adam laughs, “in what?” 

 

Ronan coughs, “kissing,” he says, “because,” he tacks on hurriedly, “I’m not - we only didn’t the other day because you were worried about me being worried about you like, fucking dumping me right after or some shit, but I’m not. I mean, I know this isn’t a ‘forever and ever’ thing. Right now or- whatever. But I’m not-” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “yeah. Ok.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, coughs again, “still no dick touching,” he adds. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “I wasn’t going to.”. 

 

“I know men,” Ronan says, attempting humour through his reddening face, “they only want one thing.” 

 

“I want you to be comfortable,” Adam says. 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, “what else do you want?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You want to kiss me?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says, doesn't need to think about it. He takes a step towards Ronan. 

 

Ronan licks his lips, “You like thinking about kissing me?” 

 

“Fuck off, Lynch,” Adam says, “yes.” 

 

“You think about kissing me?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says. 

 

“You think about…” Ronan says, trails off. 

 

“Probably yes too, a bit,” Adam says, reaches Ronan and crouches down in front of him. He’s sill sprawled out among their school books on the floor. “Do you wanna ask if I’ve dreamed about you? Or like, how often I get off? Or anything else?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, “yes,” Ronan says, snorts, “how often do you fucking wank, Parrish?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says, “are we gonna kiss or are we gonna just talk about it all night?” 

 

Ronan leans in then, has to tip his head up to meet Adam’s, kisses him almost bruisingly hard. Adam considers pulling away and telling him that kissing isn’t a sport and there isn’t a winner, but then decides he might as well just take what he’s been given, and give it back just as good, so he presses forwards hard against Ronan’s kiss, twisting his head so the angle is actually something that works, and cups the back of Ronan’s head. 

 

Ronan grunts against him, pushes back at Adam as well, over balances him in his crouch. He lands on his ass, doesn’t bother putting the kiss on pause, just tugs Ronan forwards and opens his mouth against Ronan’s. There’s no hesitation from Ronan, even though Adam had thought there might be. This is still obviously one of his first kisses, but he’s pushing forwards eagerly, kissing Adam hard and wet, clutching onto the front of Adam’s shirt. 

 

Adam doesn’t think it’s quite desperate. More like it was hungry. Adam gets that. Sometimes he feels like he’s fucking starving just for simple touch. He thinks he could keep kissing Ronan and just not stop until they’re both expert kissers. He wants to be kissing him even harder, to be holding him even closer. 

 

Ronan’s still pushing against him, pushes until Adam’s flat on his back on his paper littered floor, Ronan drawn out over him, Ronan’s heartbeat loud in Adam’s mouth, his ribs and hips and knees pressed into Adam’s body uncomfortably. Adam wants to just stay like this, with the uncomfortableness and the intensity, and the feeling of being so, so wanted. 

 

He tips his head a little, breaks the kiss. Ronan half moves to follow his mouth, then just drops his head down on Adam’s shoulder, pants against his neck. Adam drops his head back against the floor, stares up at his ceiling. 

 

“We should clear up our books,” Adam says, a little breathless, “and, uh, move this to the bed where it’s a little less uncomfortable.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, doesn’t move, somehow makes himself even heavier on top of Adam. 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says. 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says again. 

 

“We don’t have to keep kissing if you don’t want,” Adam suggests. 

 

“Fuck that,” Ronan says, bites gently at Adam’s neck, then kisses it, “I just need a breather.” 

 

“You could have a breather not on top of me,” Adam says mildly, and Ronan bites at his neck again. 

 

“I like it here,” Ronan says into Adam’s skin. 

 

“I’m not kissing you again until I’ve put my homework away,” Adam says; stupidly, because you shouldn’t make ultimatums you’re not willing to keep. 

 

“That’s fine,” Ronan says, continues mouthing at Adam’s neck, “I’m good with this.” 

 

Adam is also ‘good with this’, but that doesn’t help with getting his floor tidy. God. He needs to be touched more. Having the press of Ronan full against him is almost a little overwhelming, makes him want far too much. He feels too needy for this, too hungry. 

 

“Come on,” Adam breathes, doesn’t help matters by twisting his neck a little to give Ronan more skin to suck at, “we should - let’s get up.” 

 

“Does this turn you on?” Ronan asks, unnecessarily. Adam had not expected him to be chatty in situations like this. 

 

“Yes,” Adam grits out, “obviously.” 

 

Ronan makes a noise which is simply smug. Adam pushes at his shoulder, shifts up with his hips. Ronan jerks at that. 

 

“Up,” Adam says, and Ronan pulls himself away, pushes himself up onto his knees, and then shuffles backwards to fall against Adam’s mattress. “Graceless,” Adam tuts. 

 

He sits himself upright, starts gathering the papers around them, closing the books, ignoring the tightness of his jeans. Don’t touch the dick. 

 

“You’re really tidying up?” Ronan asks from the bed, “I thought that was just a ruse to get me onto your shitty bed.”

 

“Getting you onto the bed was a ruse to get to tidy up,” Adam shoots back, shoves a stack of books into his bag. 

 

“You like this, then?” Ronan asks, and Adam huffs. 

 

“Obviously, “ he says again, “no, I’m super bored.” 

 

“No need to be an asshole,” Ronan says easily, “I’m just -” he pauses, less easily, “-I’m not nervous, I’m just very aware that this could be a… defining...factor in our...relationship.” 

 

Adam finishes with the homework tidying, then steps over to the mattress, and drops himself down onto it next to Ronan’s hip. 

 

“I really like this,” he says, truthful, “I really do. And I  _ know _ that I’m not just liking it because it’s fun and...sexy. I’m liking it because it’s with you.” 

 

“So you’re saying you like them inexperienced?” Ronan asks, and Adam swats at his shoulder. 

 

“No,” he says, “I’m looking forward to you getting better at it and not trying to stick your entire tongue in my mouth.” 

 

Ronan scowls. “If you don’t like something,” he says, “tell me. Or else how the fuck am I meant to fucking get better?” 

 

“I just did tell you,” Adam points out, pushes up on his knees so he can swing one leg over Ronan’s hip to straddle him, “want me to give you more tips?” 

 

“Oh sure,” Ronan drawls, his scowl gone as soon as Adam’s seated on him. His hands have shifted up to grip the sides of Adam’s thighs, “do instruct me in the ways of  _ proper _ kissing then, maestro.” 

 

“I was thinking we could do more practical study,” Adam says, leans down against Ronan’s chest, “don’t put your whole tongue in my mouth.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan mumbles, tilts his head up to meet the kiss. 

 

It’s less intense this time. Still hungry. It’s less of a question, more of an answer. Also, a hell of a lot easier to get lost in when not pressed into the hard wood floor with an awkward mess of bones and muscle on top of you. 

 

-

 

“Ok,” Adam says eventually, long enough later that he thinks he has probably exceeded his fun quota for the day, “I need a shower. Are you staying here, tonight?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan pants, eyes closed, “are you gonna go wank in the shower?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says, kisses Ronan again before moving to climb off of him. 

 

Ronan grips at his thighs, then shifts his hands to rest at the top of his hips, pressing in against bone through the thin fabric of Adam’s shirt. 

 

“Can I,” he asks, “in your bed?” 

 

Adam stares at him. His cock apparently thinks this is a very great idea. A superb idea. Something that it wants to be here for. 

 

“I’ll get you some toilet paper,” he mumbles, “don’t make a mess, we’ve gotta sleep in this.” 

 

Ronan stares at him as if he hadn’t expected Adam to say yes, presses his thumbs in harder against Adam’s hips. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “got some lotion or shit, too?” 

 

“Ugh,” Adam groans.

 

He reaches down to unhook Ronan’s hands from his hips, changes his mind about getting off of Ronan right after this, and instead leans forwards again, pushing Ronan’s hands up and back against the wall behind them before he kisses Ronan again. He wonders if he’s breaking the ‘no touching’ rule by very much grinding against Ronan’s cock. He gets up. 

 

“I’ll grab you something,” he mumbles, adjusting himself through his jeans as he steps away from the mattress, “give me a minute.” 

 

He discovers he has some tissues in the bathroom, which he figures is probably nicer than his half ply cheap ass toilet paper, and grabs some moisturiser which is probably almost definitely not meant to be used for lubrication, and leans around the doorway of the bathroom to chuck them onto the foot of the bed. Doesn’t trust himself to be able to peel himself away from Ronan for a second time. 

 

“Don’t make a mess!” He calls again, closes the bathroom door on Ronan’s one fingered response. 

 

-

 

It feels a little stupid, knowing that they’re both jerking off about each other in separate rooms. Also a little fucking hot. A lot fucking hot, maybe. He’s not sure if he ought to stifle his noises, like he usually does, or if he ought to just let them out so Ronan can hear. The idea of that is a little too embarrassing though, even if it is also turning him on even more. 

 

He wonders what Ronan’s thinking about, through the thin wall between them, if he’s thinking about Adam’s hand on him, or Adam’s mouth on him, or just of the grinding, or if he’s thinking of… more. They hadn’t even fucking taken off their shirts while they’d made out, and Adam, thinking about it, thinks he’d probably have actually just cum in his pants if they’d gotten to be skin to skin like that. Fuck. He needs to be touched more. 

 

He doesn’t know if he wants to be imagining his hand on him as Ronan’s, because if Ronan doesn’t want to be physically doing this right now, he’s not sure if it’s  _ ok _ to have it happen in his imagination; but the idea of it is right fucking there, and he’s already so close, and maybe they need to have a conversation about boundaries or what the fuck ever because he doesn’t want to move too fast, even in his own head. 

 

He thinks about Ronan’s mouth hot on his neck, about the sting of his teeth catching on clavicle. Thinks about Ronan’s hands pressing hard into the small of his back while they’d kissed on the bed, of his fingers digging into the skin around his hips, of his hands dipping lower and closer. 

 

He’s saved from crossing any head boundaries because he, apparently, really truly needs to be fucking touched more often because otherwise he finishes way too fast. 

 

He does his actual showering then, quickly so the hot water doesn’t run out. Dries slowly, trying to give Ronan ample time, brushes his teeth, climbs into his pajama pants (which he’d messily left crumpled on the ground this morning), chucks the rest of his clothes into his cardboard box laundry basket, and then hesitates at the door. Knocks loudly. 

 

“You can fucking come back out,” Ronan calls, “geez.” 

 

“I didn’t wanna walk in on you,” Adam says as he comes out of the bathroom. 

 

Ronan is in the bed, under the blankets now. He’s flushed, but otherwise looks much calmer than when Adam had left him. 

 

“Um,” Adam says, walks across the room to the small slice of wall that’s his kitchen to grab a glass of water, “did you, uh-” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, “and no, I didn’t make a mess, Parrish, and yes, I put the fucking cum tissues in the rubbish.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “wanna water?” 

 

“Had one already.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says again, downs his water quickly, “ready for lights out?” 

 

“What is this,” Ronan asks, “school camp?” 

 

“I’ve never wanked in the showers at school camp,” Adam says dryly, “or been to school camp.” 

 

“You’re not missing out,” Ronan replies, “turn the fucking lights out and come back here.” 

  
  


-

  
  


He’d left Ronan asleep in bed when he’d gone to work, early shift before school, and when he gets back a few hours later so he can grab his school bag and change into his uniform, Ronan’s gone. This is one of those moments in which he wishes he had a phone. So he could text Ronan and make sure he’s all good. Though, likely, that was maybe a bit needy. Maybe he should have left Ronan a note. He’s sure Ronan knew where he was, though. This doesn’t stop him from worrying about it the entire way to school. 

 

He and Ronan have English together first period, and he’s stupidly relieved when Ronan walks in and comes to sit in his usual seat next to Adam. 

 

“Hey,” Adam says, immediately feels awkward, then feels more awkward for feeling awkward. 

 

“Hey,” Ronan respond, drops his bag heavily on his desk and drapes himself artistically in his seat. 

 

“Um,” Adam says, fiddles with the edge of his notebook, “where did you go, this morning?” 

 

“Huh?” Ronan asks, “Home,” he says, then he narrows his eyes, and shifts in his seat to look at Adam a little more carefully. “Hey,” he says. 

 

“What?” Adam asks. 

 

“Where you fucking worried or some shit when I wasn’t there when you got back?” Ronan asks, sounds a little incredulous. 

 

Adam shrugs, picks at the paper. 

 

“Oi,” Ronan says, “that wasn’t a fucking one night stand, you shit head. I didn’t leave to avoid you, I left so I could fucking get a change of clothes and feed Chainsaw, and like, grab my phone charger.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam mumbles. 

 

“Anyway,” Ronan counters, “you were gone when I woke up.” 

 

“I had work,” Adam says. 

 

“I know,” Ronan says, “so it’s not like I freaked out or shit. You could’ve woken me up to say bye, or whatever.” 

 

Adam shrugs again. 

 

“Trouble in paradise?” a classmate to their left croons, “You guys arguing over who gets to be the whining girl?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan snaps, whirling around to pin the speaker with a fierce glare, “what the fuck kind of shitting rubbish do you guys believe about fucking gay relationships? Butt the fuck out.” 

 

“Mr Lynch,” their teacher intones heavily from the doorway he’d just entered through, “must you pepper your every sentence with expletives?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan snaps. 

 

Adam reaches out to rest his hand lightly on Ronan’s forearm, hopes he won’t get batted away. He doesn’t. Ronan glances sideways at him, then sighs grumpily, and shuffles in his seat so he’s sitting almost normally, and facing the front of the room. 

 

“Sorry, sir,” he bites out. 

 

The teacher tsks, but moves on. 

 

-

 

“Hey,” Adam mumbles as they work in pairs to go through recurring themes in the book they’re working on, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“What?” Ronan snaps, circles a collection of letters in red, slowly spelling out the word  - c-o-c-k. 

 

“About this morning,” Adam clarifies, “and also for just before.” 

 

Ronan grunts, then he sighs, moves on to doodle aimless beaks and claws on the edge of their worksheet, “me too,” he says, “I didn’t mean to pick an argument or whatever.” 

 

“I’ll leave a note next time,” Adam says, “or wake you up to say bye.” 

 

“Thanks,” Ronan mumbles, “same,” he adds, draws a dick. 

  
  


-

  
  


They go to Nino’s after school. Blue has an early afternoon shift there, and so therefore they have an afternoon shift of bugging her there, and then they plan to head to Monmouth. Usually this is a thing Adam looks forward to, however, he knows he is about to face a Blue annoyed, and he’s not sure how annoyed she’s going to be, and quite honestly, it’s a little daunting. 

 

They sit in their usual booth, in their usual formation, everything very usual and normal except for the fact that Ronan’s holding his hand under the table. This throws all the usual and normal feelings right out of the window, leaves him feeling a little jittery and off kilter. A little like he wants to shift their hands onto the table instead so it doesn’t feel like they’re hiding. 

 

Blue slides into the booth, seats herself opposite Adam and Ronan. She has her waitress notebook in hand, her apron on, but her Blue Is Unamused face on. 

 

“Hey Blue,” Adam tries. 

 

“Why on earth,” Blue says slowly, “did I have to hear from  _ Gansey _ that, first of all, you two were ‘fake dating’ even though everyone and their weird aunt knows that Ronan wants on you, and then, that you two are actually properly dating and  _ staying over night every blimmen night _ .” 

 

“Why the fuck,” Ronan says back, slowly, “is Gansey telling you about where I’m fucking sleeping.” 

 

“Sorry,” Adam says, “we should have told you sooner, and personally. And, honestly, did everyone know Ronan had a crush on me?” 

 

Noah scoffs from the corner of the booth. Gansey clears his throat. Blue raises her eyebrows. 

 

“Everyone and their weird aunt,” she repeats, “even those whose weird aunts aren’t psychic.” 

 

Ronan glowers. 

 

“And yet,” he says, “none of you fuckers picked up on the fact that Adam wants to fucking bone me?” 

 

Gansey chokes on air. Noah scoffs again. Blue’s eyebrows go higher than ought to be possible. 

 

“I knew,” Noah pipes up, waves his hand in the air, “but yeah, nah, Adam’s a lot better at keeping that off his face than you were, dude.” 

 

Blue shrugs, “I had guessed.” 

 

“I had no clue,” Gansey admits, “at all. I mean, first of all, I thought you were super straight-” 

 

“Gansey,” Noah snorts, “he told you you were hot within the first week of being friends.” 

 

Adam attempts not to blush. 

 

“He has a torn out magazine picture of a hot guy in his car,” Blue adds. 

 

“That’s because of the car in the picture!” Adam protests, and now Ronan scoffs beside him. 

 

“Sure,” he says, “I know you looked at that picture and thought, ‘I dunno if I wanna be him or be on him’.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam snorts. 

 

“Yeah,” Noah says, grins at Gansey and nudges him hard (or as hard as ghosts can nudge) in the ribs, “pretty sure none of us at this table is straight, buddy.” 

 

“Yeah, well I’m not,” Blue says cheerfully, twirls a longer strand of her hair, “I’m like, the most pansexual person you’ll ever meet, I’m even into ghosts,” she adds, winks at Noah, who laughs uproariously while Gansey flushes. 

 

“Pretty sure I got gayer when I died,” Noah chips in, “still like pretty girls though,” he shoots at Blue, winks back at her. 

 

“Ok,” Gansey blusters, “I have obviously been… under a rock. I was unaware. I guess I have a bit of catching up to do.” 

 

“It’s ok, Gans,” Ronan says, “you knew I was gay, so you get that at least.” 

 

“I just,” Gansey continues, stares at the table, “well. I didn’t know that was allowed. All the… variance. However,” he says, clearing his throat, and sitting up a little straighter, “let’s eat something?” 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan ends up coming back with Adam to his flat. Adam has a brief moment in which he thinks that maybe they should keep things a little slower, should space out the sleep overs and dates and whatever, but then a very large part of his brain (and probably cock) reminds him that he very (very) much wants to kiss Ronan again properly, and that he hadn’t gotten to ALL DAY. So. Ronan comes home with him. 

 

-

 

“Hey,” Adam says from the bathroom where he’s washing his hair over the sink. The water’s turned off currently, and he’s busy lathering his hair and trying not to get soap in his mouth, “about Gans.” 

 

“Yeah?” Ronan calls from somewhere in the main room, doing whatever the fuck Ronan’s do while unobserved. Probably he’s turned into a flock of ravens. Or he’s carving his initials into Adam’s ceiling. 

 

“He’s definitely -” Adam begins, spits soap out of his mouth into the sink, “bi, maybe?” 

 

Ronan appears in the doorway, in human form, not as a bunch of ravens. “We’ve kissed before,” he volunteers, “and I’m pretty confident when I say that he’s definitely not  _ straight _ , no matter what he thinks.” 

 

Adam, stupidly, opens his eyes, gets soap in his eyes, swears. 

 

“Is that shock,” Ronan drawls, “or do you have fucking shampoo in your eyes or some shit?” 

 

“Soap,” Adam grumbles, “grab me the flannel, will you?” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says, crosses behind Adam, trails his hand across the small of Adam’s bare back, and then comes to join him at the sink, hands him the flannel. 

 

Adam wipes at his eyes until blinking is only mildly painful, and then turns the tap on and shoves his head as underneath it as possible to rinse the soap out. Ronan, still right the fuck behind him, leans in. Adam spends half a second thinking Ronan’s going to fucking shove his head down into the soap he’s washing out or some childish shit, and then Ronan’s fingers are pushing into his hair, knocking Adam’s hands aside. 

 

“Let me,” Ronan says, shifts to stand closer to Adam, “you’re not doing shit.” 

 

“Dick,” Adam mumbles into the sink, removes his hands, grips the edge of the counter, “thanks.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan snorts, hands very, very gentle in Adam’s hair. 

 

“So,” Adam says, “you’re kissed Gansey, huh?” 

 

“We were drunk,” Ronan says, “and… I was really upset. This was, well, this was pretty soon after my dad. I needed… wanted comfort. Gansey was willing to give it.” 

 

“I’m not judging,” Adam says, spits soapy water out of his mouth, “I get it.” 

 

“So,” Ronan says, “yeah. Plus, I’ve totally seen him checking hot guys out. I had no idea he was so… I dunno, cut up over it or whatever, though.” 

 

“He has a whole new lease in life, now,” Adam says dryly, “provided his parents won’t disown him if he like, gets a boyfriend.” 

 

“One step at a time,” Ronan says. 

 

“So, uh,” Adam says, “did you ever, like-” 

 

“Sure I had a fucking crush on Gansey,” Ronan snorts, “who the fuck didn’t? C’mon, I’ve seen  _ you _ eye Gansey up.” 

 

Adam is probably flushing. “Maybe,” he says, “but I’ve never kissed him.” 

 

“He’s very nice to kiss,” Ronan says, “maybe you should.” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam snaps. 

 

“I want to kiss you,” Ronan says then, a little quieter, “I want you.” 

 

“You want me,” Adam says, “but you also like kissing Gansey?” 

 

“It was once,” Ronan says, not snapping, “and I liked it, yeah. That doesn’t mean I’m sitting here hanging out to kiss him again.” 

 

Adam swallows. Sighs. Concentrates on Ronan’s hands in his hair. 

 

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not good at this kind of shit. I… don’t know how to talk about… this.” 

 

“It’s whatever,” Ronan says, turns off the sink tap and then drops Adam’s towel on his head, “if you’re fucking worried I’m gonna change my mind and go for Gansey if he decides he’s bi or some shit, you can shove that up your ass. I like you. I fucking - I really like you. So chill with the jealousy shit, it’s not attractive.” 

 

“Sorry,” Adam says again, reaches up to start drying his hair, “I guess it’s just, yeah, Gansey is… he is attractive. I mean. I’ve probably thought about kissing him. So I guess, when I think about… about me in comparison to him? I don’t get it.” 

 

“Don’t get what?” Ronan asks, leans against the door frame and watches as Adam straightens up while he rubs hard at his hair. 

 

“Why you’d like me, not him,” Adam clarifies, “I mean - he’s your best friend, you live together, he’s hot, you’re hot, it’s kinda perfect.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan snorts, “look. I fucking love him. And like, maybe, down the track, if you wanted to too, maybe I’d wanna like, kiss him with you. But, like I just fucking said, Parrish, I want you. First and foremost. I’m not confused or what-the-fuck-ever about who I want, I’m not getting my emotions mixed up because I think I can’t have Gansey. That doesn’t even factor. Fuck, I probably could have Gansey if I wanted him, but it’s fucking  _ you _ , Parrish.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “I think you’re being too truthful here.” 

 

“I can’t help it,” Ronan snaps, “the truth will out or some shit.” 

 

“You want me?” 

 

“I’ve only said it like a million fucking times.” 

 

“I feel like,” Adam says, “maybe we should address the  _ other _ thing you said when we’re further down the track. It’s too much to think about right now.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grunts, shrugs, “it’s not important.” 

 

“It’s a little important,” Adam says, “if that’s a thing you might want.” 

 

“Does it put you off?” Ronan asks, “Because, just to clarify, I’m not like - I’m not into threesomes or whatever in general-” 

 

“It doesn’t,” Adam says, “I’m just not ready to think about, or talk about that kind of thing. Not when we’re not even officially a thing yet.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “you still wanna make out tonight?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says, rolls his eyes as he hangs his damp towel up, “yes.” 

 

-

  
  


Wednesday morning somehow ends up running very late for school. Adam would like to pretend that this lateness was an unavoidable thing, like, traffic, or some shit, but really it was because when he’d gotten back from work, Ronan was still there in his bed and had caught onto the hem of Adam’s work shirt as Adam had stepped over near the bed to grab his uniform, had tugged him down into the bed with him. What had followed was a very solid twenty minutes of overly sloppy kissing, and then panic when Adam’s wristwatch had beeped to him inform him of the hour. 

 

He gets to first period ten minutes late. 

 

He also has a hickey blooming just under his collar. He knows it’s there, had seen the beginning of it darkening as he’d brushed his teeth quickly in the bathroom, but couldn’t know if it had developed further since, if it was visible over his shirt. Not until fucking Carruthers leans in after Adam’s muttered his apologies to the teacher and slumped down in his seat. 

 

“That a love bite, Parrish?” Tad asks in a carrying whisper, “Or just a bite? Lynch being a feral dog?” 

 

Adam lifts his hand to clamp over his neck, hunches over his books, ignores Tad. 

 

“Never thought you’d be one for hickeys, honestly,” Tad continues, not put off by Adam’s silence, “I thought you were too  _ dignified _ for that. But I suppose you are with Lynch, so.” 

 

“Oh hush, Carruthers,” Henry calls from across the room, no pretence that the entire classroom wasn’t listening in on Tad’s whispers, “just because you’re jealous you can’t get some, doesn’t mean you need to be a dick about it.” 

 

The classroom titters. Adam’s sure Tad is blushing, but he doesn’t care enough to turn and look, just keeps his head down over his books. 

 

This is a thing he has to consider. Dating Lynch. Of course, people had known about it before, he knew that, he knew they had all been talking about this, but them having something to actually see to talk about made it feel a bit too intimate. This was a thing he has to consider the cons of.  He doesn’t think he really cares, apart from the vague embarrassment of having something so personal become public, but he’s also not sure how much of his embarrassment stems from having arrived to class late. 

 

It’s also a thing he has to think about in relation to their friend group, which becomes clear when he sits down next to Gansey in history, and Gansey stares at the hickey with his mouth open. 

 

“Stop staring,” Adam hisses, reaching up to cover his neck again, can feel heat pinking his ears, “God.” 

 

“That wasn’t there last night,” Gansey observes. 

 

“No,” Adam acknowledges stiffly, “you ready for the quiz?” 

 

“Always,” Gansey says swiftly, “are you guys being safe?” 

 

“God,” Adam says again, horrified, “ _ Gansey _ .” 

 

“I mightn’t have received the best education on sexual identities but my sex education was top notch,” Gansey says earnestly, “I just want to make sure that my friends are-” 

 

“We’re not having sex,” Adam hisses. 

 

“But you have a-” Gansey begins. 

 

“Sex not required for that,” Adam says, still a hiss, knows their conversation is attracting class attention, “we’re just… foolin’ ‘round.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey says carefully, “but-” 

 

“And  _ if _ we do anything else,” Adam continues hurriedly, “we’ll be fucking safe. I’m not an idiot, Gansey, I know what to do.” 

 

“Well,” Gansey says, looks away as the teacher walks into the room, “I’m glad.” 

 

God. 

 

-

 

Henry gives him a condom at lunch.

 

Adam gives it to Carruther’s in passing, “For when you get lucky.” 

 

-

 

Ronan is on his doorstep after work. 

 

“Hey,” Adam says, steps over Ronan to unlock the door. “Can we talk?” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says. He’d been looking quite pleased until this. Now his face is a rigid mask. “Sure.” 

 

“Not like that,” Adam sighs, pushes his door open, nudges Ronan’s thigh with his foot, “not like that.” 

 

“This isn’t a, ‘this was great but I think we should take a break/split up’ talk, then?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, steps inside and heads to his desk to deposit his bag. “Want a coffee or something?” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says. He’s followed Adam in only as far as the doorway, is leaning against it, not shutting it behind him. 

 

“Shut the door?” Adam asks, “And chill out? I just said it isn’t that kind of talk.” 

 

Ronan’s shuts the door, doesn’t look like he’s getting very far with the chilling out suggestion. He stays leaning against the door frame. 

 

“I’m not comfortable with visible hickeys right now,” Adam says, “it feels too intimate to show other people, I don’t like them getting to see it.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says. 

 

“I do like the hickeys though,” Adam admits, “so like, feel free to leave them wherever will be hidden by what I usually wear, just maybe leave the neck alone so much?” 

 

Ronan stares at him for a moment, then pushes away from the door to cross the floor between them. 

 

“I can do that,” he says. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, shrugs, “cool. We doing homework again tonight?” he asks, turns away to his desk to look for his maths workbook. 

 

“Was that seriously it?” Ronan asks, takes another step towards Adam. “That was everything you wanted to talk about?” 

 

“Yeah?” Adam says, “That’s all. What were you expecting?” 

 

“Who knows,” Ronan says, takes the steps that pushes him against Adam’s back, wraps his arms around his waist, “but I’m glad I was wrong.” 

 

“You’re trying to distract me from homework?” Adam asks. 

 

“Problem?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Yes,” Adam says truthfully, “I need to do this stuff this evening.” 

 

“Can I stay?” Ronan asks, presses his forehead against the back of Adam’s neck. 

 

“Are you going to do your homework, too?” Adam asks. 

 

“No,” Ronan says, “I think I’ll combust if I do homework more than once a week.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “you can’t be purposefully distracting though.” 

 

“What if I’m accidentally distracting?” Ronan asks, “Will you kick me out?” 

 

“If you’re a nuisance, yeah,” Adam says, “so you have to entertain yourself.” 

 

“Ugh,” Ronan says, doesn’t let go of Adam, “maybe I’ll go and come back later when you’re finished nerding it up.” 

 

“I’d like that,” Adam says, “because if you stay you will be distracting. Will you stay the night?” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan grunts, slips his hands up under the hem of Adam’s shirt, “want me to bring anything with me?” 

 

“Uh,” Adam says, closes his eyes and just lets himself lean back in against Ronan’s touch for a moment, “nah.” 

 

“So,” Ronan says, drags his hands over Adam’s stomach, “Gansey tried to have ‘the talk’ with me today.” 

 

“God,” Adam snorts, “yeah, with me too.” 

 

“I told him to fuck off,” Ronan mumbles. 

 

“I told him we weren’t having sex,” Adam says, “I hope that’s ok.” 

 

Ronan snorts, “sure,” he says, “did he believe you?” 

 

“I think so,” Adam says. 

 

“Because now that I can see your hickey properly,” Ronan continues, “I kinda understand why he felt the pressing need to corner me.” 

 

“Carruther’s has been on my ass about it all day,” Adam admits, lifts his hands to press of Ronan’s through his shirt. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan snorts, “because he has a crush on you.” 

 

“What?” Adam snorts back, “fuck off.” 

 

“It’s true,” Ronan insists, rubs his thumbs up hard against Adam’s ribs, “I have a crush on you of course I can tell who else has a crush on you.” 

 

“Is it still a crush,” Adam says, changing the subject, “if we’re actually together?” 

 

“I  _ had _ a crush on you,” Ronan amends, “can you turn around already so I can kiss you?” 

 

“Hm,” Adam says, “and here I thought you were enjoying feeling me up like this.” 

 

Ronan squeezes his pecs, presses up harder against his back. 

 

“I  _ do _ ,” he says, “but I’m gonna leave so you can continue on your path to pass Einstein so I wanna kiss you goodbye before I get too… worked up.” 

 

Adam laughs, turns awkwardly in Ronan’s arms to kiss him hard. He had been enjoying having Ronan draped over his back, of being pressed firmly into the edge of his desk, even. It was a little stupid. 

 

“Yeah,” he says, drags himself out of the kiss, “get the fuck out of here before my maths grades drop just from thinking about not doing homework.” 

 

“Dick head,” Ronan says, turns on heel and leaves. 

  
  


-

  
  


Adam does his homework. Adam considers the fact that last week he had been pretending he was trialing Ronan. Adam does his extra credit work. Adam considers the fact that he has been ignoring the question of Ronan for months now. Wonders if he ought to have addressed it earlier, if he had, if he would have been getting to be touched like this for months now. Adam makes toast for dinner, eats it with Sargant made jam while he writes a draft essay. Adam wonders how long he needs to wait until he feels like it’s a sensible length of time to have been dating someone before making the shift from ‘dating’ to ‘together’. Thinks he spends too much time trying to appease some unappeasable part of himself when he could, maybe, be simply having a good time. 

 

He wants Ronan to come back so he can stop thinking about it and just be taken apart with touch. 

 

-

 

Ronan comes back a bit after nine. Knocks, but then lets himself in with his key before Adam has time to get up off of his mattress. 

 

“Was Gansey pleased to have you home for a bit?” Adam asks, keeps his head down over his work book. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan drawls, kicks his boots off in the doorway, “he wanted to ask me questions about sexuality. Honestly, I think he should talk to Maggot about it. She’s got all that gender politics crap under her belt, plus they spend all their time making moon eyes at each other so he could just try and answer all his sex questions at once.” 

 

“Don’t be gross,” Adam retorts, then, “are you jealous?” 

 

“Are  _ you _ jealous?” Ronan shoots back. 

 

“Of Gansey, you, or Blue?” Adam replies. 

 

“Any or all,” Ronan decides, drops himself down on the end of Adam’s bed, pokes at the sole of one of Adam’s socked feet. 

 

“I don’t think so,” Adam says, “maybe I’ll be jealous if  _ you’re _ jealous, but I don’t think so.” 

 

“I’m not,” Ronan says, “I said before that I’m not hanging out for Gansey. I don’t want to… be his boyfriend. I just think sometimes I want to be closer with him.” 

 

“And kissing’s the way to do that?” 

 

“I thought we were going to leave this conversation for further down the track?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “so did I. We probably still should.” 

 

“I’m not going to pretend it isn’t at all sexual,” Ronan says, not leaving the conversation, “like, it’s not all just  _ platonic friendship kissing _ . But I don’t want anything with him like what I want with you.” 

 

“I’m not-” Adam mumbles, “-sure I quite get it. But, ok. Maybe parts of me get it.” 

 

“Parts of you like your cock?” Ronan asks, pokes his foot again, and Adam snorts and jerks his leg away. 

 

“Maybe,” he says daringly, “maybe.” 

 

“So when you’re not feeling a little jealous about it,” Ronan tries, “you think it’s a little hot?” 

 

“Maybe.” Adam says, “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says easily, then, “take your shirt off?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Take your shirt off. I want to leave private hickeys.” 

 

“ _ God _ ,” Adam snorts, drops his book, tugs at his shirt, “fine.” 

 

“Don’t act like you’re being hard done by, here, Parrish,” Ronan says, shuffles further up  the bed and removes the book from the mattress before planting himself firmly in Adam’s lap and assisting with the shirt removal, “your immediate acquiescence shows just how fucking enthusiastic you are.” 

 

“God,” Adam says again, “the hell are you doing using your SAT words in bed?” 

 

“Trying to turn a fucking geek on,” Ronan says, runs his hands down the front of Adam’s chest, and then up his sides before ducking down to press a wet kiss just under his clavicle. He looks up at Adam, “here ok?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, leans back against the wall, reaches down Ronan’s body to tug at the fabric of Ronan’s shirt riding up his lower back, “I want your shirt off too. I like… seeing your tattoo.” 

 

“Ah,” Ronan says, wrangle his way out of his shirt, “so it isn’t school shit that turns you on, it’s reckless and expensive art decisions?” 

 

“Fuck that,” Adam says, “just this one.” 

 

“Ha,” Ronan says into the dip between Adam’s ribs and navel, “you’re my most reckless decision lately.” 

 

“Much less expensive though,” Adam points out, shudders as Ronan licks a stripe up between his pecs.

 

“True,” Ronan agree, shifts further down Adam’s body, almost scarily low, “you confuse Declan just about us much though.” 

 

“I don’t see why,” Adam elects to say instead of moaning as Ronan bites just above his hip. 

 

For someone who apparently doesn’t have a wide range of experience with this shit, Ronan is managing to very much  _ know _ what he’s doing. 

 

“He’s the one betting you would get a boy,” he adds, doesn’t quite keep the moan out of this because Ronan has changed from biting to sucking. 

 

Possibly it isn’t that Ronan is good exactly, but because, as Adam is constantly aware, Adam isn’t used to  _ touch _ and so this is fucking overwhelming. 

 

Ronan doesn’t reply. Most likely because he has a mouthful of Adam’s side and his tongue? Is? Adam doesn’t know what his tongue is doing but he likes it enough to moan without trying to fit words around it. He thinks that tonight is definitely going to be another showering night, or, if he’s not careful, an emergency washing night. 

 

When Ronan breaks away from his skin, Adam can already feel the bruise forming, likes the feeling of this kind of bruise, even as it stings a little. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan says into his saliva wet skin. 

 

“Yeah?” Adam drawls, head tipped back on the mattress, eyes closed. 

 

“I lied about the bet.” 

 

It takes Adam a few moments to parse this statement. His mind is a little fuzzy from the pleasure/pain throbbing in his side, from the hardness of his dick, from the feeling of Ronan’s lips moving against his skin as he speaks. 

 

“What?” Adam asks, “Which bit?” 

 

“The whole thing,” Ronan says. He’s still face down on Adam’s stomach. “I didn’t overhear Declan and his friends say shit.” 

 

Adam’s eyes are open now. He blinks at the ceiling. His dick is still too hard to think straight, which is a bit annoying. 

 

“It was a stupid idea that I - that I didn’t think you’d say yes to,” Ronan continues, “I saw the… idea on the internet at like four that morning and I -” 

 

“You don’t lie,” Adam says to the ceiling. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says. He’s finally sitting up now, shifting down the bed so he’s not on Adam’s legs anymore, “I don’t. But I did.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because,” Ronan says, “I- there is no good reason here, Parrish, I thought - I don’t know what I thought.” 

 

“You thought,” Adam grits out, “that asking me to  _ fake date _ you was a better idea than actually just asking me to date you?” 

 

“It was less terrifying,” Ronan says, sounds a little terrified. Adam closes his eyes again. 

 

“It would have been a lot more straightforward and easier if you’d just said what you really wanted in the first place,” Adam says, “you’d have pissed off 100% fewer people.” 

 

The bed dips as Ronan gets off of it.

 

“You wouldn’t have said yes if I asked you out on a real date,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam opens his eyes again so he can glare at the ceiling. His fucking dick is still hard. Get with the fucking mood, dick. 

 

“I don’t know what I would have said,” he says, “but I don’t think I would have said no. I fucking said yes to your hairbrained dare scheme.” 

 

There’s a bit of rustling, and Adam pushes himself up on his elbows to watch Ronan pulling his shirt back on. 

 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

 

“Putting my top on,” Ronan grunts. 

 

Adam rolls his eyes, “Why?” 

 

“So that when you kick me out in a minute we don’t have to awkwardly wait around while I get dressed again.” 

 

“Oh fuck that,” Adam snaps, “sit the fuck down. I’m pissed off at you for being a shit baby, I’m not fucking  _ breaking up _ with you.” 

 

Ronan looks at him, confused. Adam pats the mattress hard, shuffles back up on the mattress so he’s sitting up properly. 

 

“You’re not… mad?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Of course I’m mad,” Adam says, “that was the dumbest fucking lie I’ve heard of.” 

 

Ronan sits back down. 

 

“If we hadn’t ended up like this,” Adam asks, gestures between them, and then at the steadily darkening bruise at his hip, “would you have even told me you lied?” 

 

“Probably not,” Ronan says, he has his wrist to his face, chewing on his leather bands, his words muffled around them. 

 

“So we would have fake dated for like, two weeks maybe, and you would have held my hand, and like… taken me on fake dates, and come round to  _ hang out _ and then just gone back to normal? Gansey is totally right that that would have fucked you up.” 

 

“Sure,” Ronan grunts, “I hadn’t considered that part of it before I asked you.” 

 

“So. You lied about this. But nothing else was a lie, right? Not about how you feel? About what you want?” 

 

Ronan looks hurt. “Fuck no,” he says, “I’m an asshole but I’m  _ not-  _ I wouldn’t lie about that. I fucking love you, Parrish, this thing wasn’t like a… a ploy to get into your pants or some shit. This was just a badly thought out way to fucking  _ hold your hand _ at most.” 

 

Adam has to swallow this down. Tucks  _ that _ particular statement into the back of his mind for later perusal. He didn’t think now was the time. Maybe it was. But he didn’t think he had the capacity for addressing it right now. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “that’s what’s important to me. I mean, I’m - you’re such an idiot, Lynch. Only you would think that was a good idea. But I can’t be - I can’t be too mad at you about it because it did end up with us actually dating, and I  _ like _ that.” 

 

“So,” Ronan says, tugs at the hem of his shirt, “we’re… ok?” 

 

“We’re ok,” Adam says, “but we’re not doing… more making out shit tonight. I don’t want - if we continue where we left off I think I’ll feel like we’re resolving this through that and I don’t want that.” 

 

“So,” Ronan says again, is still tugging at his shirt, like he’s switched his nervous tic from his leather bands to his shirt, except he is also still chewing at the bands. “No make-up… make outs?” 

 

“Tomorrow,” Adam says, “once I’ve had some time.” 

 

“Want me to go?” 

 

“If you go will you feel like you’re being sent away?” 

 

“Maybe. I can deal though, dude, I know you like your space,” Ronan says, finally drops his wrist from his mouth. “I could go home and confess to Gansey and Noah and shit and get that over with and then come back in the morning for make-up and comfort kissing.” 

 

Adam considers this. He does like his space. He craves quiet, and peace, and room to himself.

 

“Stay,” he says, “sleep with me. Don’t make me late for school tomorrow morning.” 

 

Ronan smiles. 

 

“Ok,” he says. 

 

-

 

They do kiss a little more. Adam doesn’t count it as going back on his word though, because they’re just small kisses. Goodnight kisses. He also doesn’t object to Ronan plastering himself against Adam’s back when they get properly into bed together. He tucks his face into Adam’s nape in such a way that Adam’s pretty sure he has to have gills or some shit to still be breathing, and wraps his arm around Adam’s waist, hand on his stomach. 

 

“Thank you for not sending me back,” Ronan mumbles some time after Adam’s turned off his bedside lamp (Ronan refers to this lamp, almost fondly, as the next step up from the sundial. Adam points out that a sundial is a time telling piece of equipment, and very clever as well. Ronan smirks at him in a way that Adam knows he’s been purposefully nudged into explaining basic shit.)

 

“Like a piece of faulty equipment,” Adam mumbles back, shifts his hand from the pillow by his face down under the blankets so he can take Ronan’s on his stomach.

 

“Just like,” Ronan says. 

 

“I like you, faults and all,” Adam says, because you can say things like this in the dark. 

 

“You sure you don’t wanna swap me out for a newer model?” 

 

Adam snorts, slips his fingers under Ronan’s leather bracelets, presses his fingers in at veins. 

 

“Matthew’s a little young for me,” he says, “and a little too bubbly.” 

 

Ronan snorts as well. Lifts his head enough to press a kiss to the top of Adam’s spine. 

 

“About what I said before,” Ronan says, keeps his lips pressed to the knob of bone at Adam’s nape. 

 

“What thing?” Adam asks, thinks he knows what thing. 

 

“The ‘L’ word thing,” Ronan mumbles. 

 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” Adam suggests, “we can add it to our pile of things to talk about later.” 

 

“I didn’t know we had a whole pile,” Ronan says, ducks his head back down to his gill breathing position. 

 

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Adam says, or, the dark around them prompts Adam to say. 

 

Ronan’s head pops back up. 

 

“This isn’t a pile conversation?” he asks. 

 

“We could skip the whole conversation and just go to the ‘yes, let’s be boyfriends’ thing and then go to sleep,” Adam says into his pillow. He can feel Ronan’s pulse speeding erratically under his fingertips. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, “let’s be boyfriends.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “goodnight.” 

 

“Wait, wait,” Ronan says, pushes himself up, “are we seriously going to sleep now?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, tugs at Ronan’s leather bands to pull him back down, “so we can wake up early enough to kiss without making us late for class.” 

  
  


-

  
  


They’re not late for class, which is Latin, and, there are no new hickeys visible. 

 

“Do I seriously have to tell them?” Ronan asks, a cajoling whine while they wait for Gansey to get to his seat (he’s currently doing his whole ‘I’m the son of politicians’ thing where he all but holds court in the front of the classroom to discuss various sporty things). “They’ll all be so… loud.” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says firmly, doesn’t look up from his homework he’s looking over, “because, I can imagine Gansey bringing this up to Declan at some point in the future, or in public at our - at some event, and then all the fat would be in the fire.” 

 

“At some event?” Ronan prods, then, “I suppose.” 

 

“Better done sooner rather than later,” Adam says, turns the page, and then reaches out to pat Ronan on the back. 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, “as soon as he gets here, then?” 

 

“Not in class!” Adam hisses, looks up from his paper to find Ronan smirking at him. “Dickhead,” he says, knows he’s saying it a little too fondly. “At least wait until lunch, let’s not cause a scene in such a small room.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says, keeps his smirk on as he reaches for Adam’s hand. “Will you take my side during the blow out? Or will you eat popcorn and watch?” 

 

“If you get me popcorn I’ll eat it,” Adam says, goes back to his homework, keeps holding Ronan’s hand. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
